


If You Like It

by JustAFigment



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: 10 pages of first base, Crack, F/M, I am not sorry, I had too much fun writing this, Identity Reveal, No one gets pregnant, a little bit of biting, also this started as a crack fic, chat's a pleaser, confident mari, crack reveal, like a lot of sin, like the first 2 pages are other stuff and then its 58 pages of sin, little bit of crack, most one scene, nervous noir, plagg is pissed, really crack reveal, sin - Freeform, this is a lot of sin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 09:17:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10987938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAFigment/pseuds/JustAFigment
Summary: Things get hot and heavy between Marinette and Chat Noir after the two heroes decide to leave romance out of their professional duties. However Chat's pull out game isn't as strong as he thought and he ends up leaving a very important deposit behind.





	If You Like It

**Author's Note:**

> This started off as something that should have been a very short crack reveal fic and it because this 60 page monstrosity with a life of it's own.
> 
> I will never apologize for this.
> 
> please enjoy.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, this was my first actual ML fic I started writing, but, well, it took too long to finish, so there's a whole bunch of other shit I've written now too, haha. AH well.
> 
> showmeyoureros.tumblr.com

They had been partners for years.

So many now it was hard for the man behind the cat-like mask to really remember how it was before they'd become a team. Partners.

Well, maybe that was a small lie. More like he chose not to remember.

That wasn't the point, however.

The point was that they had been partners for years, and right now it seemed that's all they would ever be. But not for his lack of trying. If the hero known as Chat Noir could have his way, he and his Lady would not only be the most amazing duo of super heroes Paris had ever seen, but also the happiest couple to stroll beside the Seine, or stand atop the Eiffel tower, or fill a bakery with the most delicious of pastries…

But Ladybug had other thoughts.

She had made it poignantly clear that as long as the two of them possessed their Miraculous and the safety of the city rode on their shoulders, nothing like that would ever happen. Nothing like that could ever happen.

"It's too dangerous. For our friends and our families... And for both of us."

It had made him angry at first. Frustrated. Robbed. Until the look in her eyes as she stared out across the city spoke volumes more than the strained, whispered phrase could.

"Besides, I'm sure there's someone else you could be better off showering with all those sweet nothings instead..."

She wanted it too.

He knew she'd wanted it too, the companionship that went beyond just being partners. But she didn't want to know the person behind his mask. Not now.

They had been partners for years, and yet the woman hiding behind red and spotted with black still hadn't realized that her chaton hadn't meant for them to be together just as heroes.

That his wish extended, as well, to the bright eyed designer that had sat behind him in class all those years ago.

That night the miraculous duos patrol drifted dutifully through a heavy silence.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Weeks passed and patrols returned to normal. They'd meet in the evenings and roam the city, tossing casual banter back and forth, playful flirts that he made sure no longer crossed the line she'd laid in the sand over a month before, and business carried on as usual. Some nights they would run solo, as their civilian lives schedules would dictate, the concept of college life not quite catering as well to the vigorous responsibilities of being a superhero.

To Chat, it seemed, Ladybug fell victim far more often to the rigors of a professor's deadlines. He knew why, of course. Marinette had managed to work her way into a rather prestigious fashion design program that was tied closely to the Gabriel brand, and making a good impression with the people in charge of said program could do wonders for her future. Not that her talent really needed the extra boost. Her 'friend' Adrien, she'd said, had been more than encouraging, and much to her relief Chat Noir let her know he had zero qualms about picking up any slack she'd need to give her the chance to pour herself into the craft she was born for.

Chat chuckled to himself as he vaulted across a particularly large gap between buildings, rolling into a run on all fours as he cleared the rooftops and felt the slightest bite of cold night air whipping across his face, every muscle in his body working to propel him forward with each stride. It was exhilarating, to say the least, and something he knew he'd never get tired of. The only thing more exciting than the mad sprints across the cities rooftops was that moment when he'd catch a flash of red in the corner of his vision. It still sent his heart into his throat as a silent game of chase would begin, and he'd follow her. He'd follow her to the ends of the earth if she'd let him.

If only she'd let him.

If only she knew.

Three jolting strides and he came to a stop, perched on the corner of a roof, breathing hard as the adrenaline from the solo run coursed through him and screamed at his muscles to just keep running. It was his thoughts that raced, though, rolling the same two words through his mind that had been haunting him for weeks. _Someone else_ . Ladybug had wanted him to find someone _else_ . She wanted him to find someone _else_ to fill the void she thought she couldn't, and that had troubled him more than a simple no ever could. She hadn't rejected him. She'd rejected herself.

_For everyones benefit_ , he tried to remind himself.

If only she knew it was him behind the mask. If she knew he'd figured it out ages ago. If she knew he'd managed to fall head over heels for her on both sides of the coin, maybe then it could be different? But he'd panicked and held his tongue. It had been a simple slip up, him finding out, after dispatching a particularly nasty akuma, he'd retreated first to break his transformation and give Plagg a breather, but just as he was stepping away from the scene as Adrien, the bright flash of pink around the corner had been nearly unavoidable, and the girl with the bluebell eyes and hair like midnight that came barreling around the corner straight into him brought the pieces crashing together the moment they'd collided.

And it all made sense.

So much so that he'd redoubled his efforts to woo his Lady and bring about one of those kinds of happily ever afters you only get in fairy tales and the cheesiest of anime romances.

"Like I'd _ever_ be able to find someone that could measure up to you, Buginette." He chuckled to himself at the nickname, far more fitting than he'd ever realized.

Well, if he couldn't see her on patrol tonight, maybe he'd have to drop in and see what his Princess was actually up to, he thought with a gentle hum before launching himself back out into the night.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He touched down on the balcony railing with a grace that could only be attributed to years of practice. An eyebrow quirked as the familiar hatch leading to Marinette's bedroom stood propped open to let the cool night air roll in, an angry guitar riff rising up as Jagged Stone dove into a well recognized solo, and after a minute, the sound of two voices singing in almost tandem, one being Jagged himself, the other, a mostly in-tune female that may or may not have just slurred the last line of the lyrics together before dissolving into a fit of harsh giggles.

"Well, at least it looks like someone's having a good night." He grinned to himself as steel-toed boots lead him across the small balcony, far more quietly than should have been possible, and to the opened hatch. A crouch and a quick drop down landed him squarely on her bed. He took in the scene before him, sprawling out to get comfy and watching the pajama-clad, dark-haired girl almost frantically dancing from one side of her room to the other amidst pieces of fabric, large and small.

His arms crossed under his chin as he lay on his stomach, watching over the edge of the loft. It looked as though the scrap bin from every fabric supply store in Paris had exploded neatly across the predominantly pink room in dark shades of violets and rich deep lavenders. Adrien couldn't for the life of him tell what kinds of fabric they were, he was used to wearing fabrics but not analyzing them after all, but they were all very different. One neat mound had a variety of different thick types of fabric, and another looked so paper thin that half of them were probably see-through. Another set of fabric was cut into what looked like strips, hot golds and ocher colors, he'd guessed would be accents. The pile that currently had Marinette's attention was all in black, though. He could tell some of it was leather, maybe, but the rest was all just what he would call 'fabric' again. Sure, he knew of the different types, but he'd never really paid too much attention to what constituted what.

"Where the hell did I put that swatch." She groaned, shuffling through the different patches of black. Yep, she was definitely working on something. In the back of his mind he began to queue up a few sewing puns that would leave her in stitches and brought up a list of fabric related phrases he hoped would come in handy. He watched with candor, scanning the rest of the room to see if there might be a stray piece of black that could be the misplaced sample. Really who knew. This place was something of a war zone, and it took all he had to hold in a chuckle.

His eyebrows raised more than a little as he took note that, yes, that was definitely a bottle of vanilla vodka sitting next to her computer screen, a few images of an outfit that looked heavily inspired by Jagged Stone's look from some years ago open on it. Next to it was a bottle of soda as well. At least she wasn't drinking it straight. That would have been a bit hardcore, he thought. Alright. So. Blasting music, fabric everywhere, obvious design in progress, and a probably tipsy Marinette flitting through it all?

Deadline.

No wonder she'd been missing for the last couple of nights.

He went back to scanning the room again, a bit more casually and just taking it all in. He'd always thought her taste in decor was amazing, her room felt so inviting every time he'd dropped by, and he slightly wished there was some way for him to re-do his own room to make it feel a bit less... Cagey. An awesome cage, but still a cage nonetheless. Though he was still stuck in the Agreste mansion, he was thankful that with age he'd gained a number of new freedoms, and the tight reins his father had once kept were much looser now that he'd proven himself capable of upholding the Agreste family honor with only minor blunders. Most of which  making himself out to be a bit of a goofball, which to his father's surprise, had actually made him that much more popular among his, _target audience_. Which, it seemed, to still include Marinette, if the recent additions to her wall of his latest published shoot were anything to go by.

He was pulled from his thoughts when a piece of fabric came flying towards him from the corner of his eye. And arced down. To fall harmlessly on the ground just below the loft. It was soon joined by another as swatches of black fabrics sailed through the air in all directions. It seemed his Princess had finally met a defeat that left her grumbling choice words at the errant textile that was eluding her grasp. She solidified her defeat by taking a large gulp from a mug next to the remnants of the black pile.

Oh, correction. She finished off the contents of the mug and all but slammed it back onto her desk.

"Cotton help but wonder if you need a hand." Chat Noir purred from his perch on the loft, idly noting just how damn comfortable her bed was to lounge on. He really should drop in more often.

Marinette spun on her heels, gaping up at the grinning figure, surprisingly well balanced for someone he'd suspected may be under the influence, at least a bit. Ah, no matter how many times he snuck up on her, the wide eyed look of surprise would never get old. Neither would the way her mouth scrunched up as her brows came down and she gave him that look of... Oh...

"Chat Noir, if you don't start learning to knock I will lock you out of this house and you'll have to go fin' some where else to beg for table scraps, you mangy alley cat." She stomped her foot for emphasis, but the glare she'd cast up at him had already lost its intensity. The faint blush to her cheeks remained, however, but it was hard to pinpoint if it was the alcohol or if that was something he could take credit for. Truthfully it was probably the alcohol, but he'd take any ego boost he could get. Especially if it mean dusting a blush across his Lady's cheeks.

"A thousand purr-dons, Princess." He pushed himself up from his very comfy spot on the bed, casually vaulting down just in front of her and bowing at the waist. "Please, let me assist in finding that pesky patch as a way to a-paw-logize." His face canted upwards, green eyes mirroring the grin plastered across his face.

"You know, you make it very hard to stay mad at you." She pressed a finger to the top of his head with a small tap before letting him back up. Her glare dissolved entirely, replaced by a warm weariness, but still the blush across her cheeks remained. "Especially when I could actually use a helping paw." She sighed as he stood up beaming at her returned pun. She then turned back to refill her drink, this time all soda, drinking down half the cup in one go and topping it off once more. Chat watched as she let out a satisfied 'ahh' from the small stampede of carbonation before continuing. "So, peeping tomcat, if you've been here long enough to know what I'm looking for, hop to it." She waved a hand around the room. Somewhere in this haystack was a needle, and it was up to him to help find it. Hopefully without finding any actual stray needles in the process.

"Anything I should know about this missing swatch aside from it's black and probably square?" He set about gathering the tossed samples first, happy to be of service in her dire time of need. He plucked up the few near the loft and off the steps, moving towards the vanity and snagging up more pieces as he went.

"Do you know the difference between chiffon, satin, and silk?" She knelt down in front of the dark violet pile, sifting through it a bit less frantically this time, set on her task.

"Can't say I do." He gave a half shrug. They were all light fabrics, all kind of delicate, and all kind of shiny he thought. "Never been too handy with sewing so needle-less to say there wasn't much point in learning." He glanced over his shoulder as her head dipped with a groan. He couldn't help but grin.

"You're never going to run out of puns, are you." It wasn't a question. Not at all. "Is this my life now? Unavoidable bad puns? What did I do to deserve any of this special hell?" She shook her head, but he could hear the smile in her voice. "What cruel pun-ishments fate as wrought upon me."

"Aw, you do care." He batted his eyes at her, not that she was looking. Turning back to the task at hand, he wandered closer to her vanity, settling the small pile of discarded black swatches next to some makeup and it was time for another round of raised brows as something caught his eye. Tucked into the corner of the mirror was a definitely younger image of himself, somewhere in the middle of his high school years, and peppered with tiny hearts. "You really do..." He mused, wondering if the sentiments lingered or if this was just an artifact of a bygone era. Those were fun times, once upon a time. Before he'd set himself fully into the work of his father, taking the easier road for now and continuing life as a model and sold his soul to the camera lens. Modeling was easy enough, and the time it took for him to complete a photo shoot or two and appease his professional duties was so minimal he was able to pick up the extra slack it took for Marinette to chase her dreams. At least hers were attainable.

He held in a sigh. If he'd known back then. There certainly were a lot of 'if's in his thoughts lately.

He plucked the picture from the mirror quickly. "Hey Princess, do I have some competition?" He turned to her with a cheshire grin, waving the magazine clipping in her general direction with a thinly veiled air of smugness.

The way her eyes widened as soon as she laid them on the picture and intense reddening of her blush only made his grin widen. "Put that back!" She screeched as softly as she could. It WAS late after all, and her parents were probably sound asleep somewhere below them. "Chat!" Hands and knees scrambled across the floor as she nearly lunged for him, half climbing up his body as she reached up for the photo. Which he oh so maturely held well over both their heads. "Chaaaat." She warned, one hand snagging a grip onto his shoulder as, yes, she was planning to actually climb up him.

"Aw, come on Princess, I'm way cuter than this guy, don't you think?" She finally got leverage and hoisted herself up, only to have him switch the clipping from one hand to the other, the former now snaking around Marinette's waist as she tried to crawl even farther up. He held it away from them both, tilting it this way and that, appraisingly, as she struggled to reach it. Even out of costume she was practically a ball of pure muscle. Chat was very glad for the small strength boost they received from the suits, cause if not he doubted he'd be able to actually handle her even with _both_ hands free. "Tell you what, I'll give you back your boyfriend for one kiss." He winked, cheekily offering up a cheek to deliver his extortion payment.

What he received was a hand to the face and not much more. A huff maybe, but that was it. The desperation to retrieve the picture faded and her struggles ceased.

"He's not my boyfriend. You know that." She sighed. That was definitely dejection he picked up on. Grinning lips devolved into a small frown as he turned to look at her. Gently he returned her feet to the floor, but didn't relinquish his hold on her waist. He knew, vaguely, that she had been a fan and at one point _may_ have had _a thing_ for him, in theory. For the most part, he'd tried to avoid talking to her too much about 'Adrien'. It was always a little weird talking about his other self with anyone, really. Like it wasn't actually him or something. The hand lingering on his face was warm. He let himself lean his cheek against it a bit more, but she pulled it back a moment later.

Her shoulders slumped, and aside from the actual act of standing, she was just leaning against him, one arm still hooked over his shoulder from trying to hoist herself higher, the other tucked curling gently against his chest as she looked just enough away to avoid looking at him. Or the picture.

"Did..." His brow furrowed and he tilted his head. "Did you want him to be?" He knew he was pushing it. He found out a years ago that she liked his civilian self, but never the extent. He knew _now_ that once upon a time, she'd had a crush on him, back when they'd first met and he had been completely oblivious and too blinded by his own infatuation with her superhero persona to even notice the brave, headstrong girl that sat behind him every day at school. But that's all he'd ever thought it had been was just a childhood crush. It had taken him ages to piece the jigsaw of emotions together from little hints here and there before the whole picture had formed.

But now it was years later. They were adults now. Did she still...?

"I don't know." She spoke slowly, letting out another sigh. "I used to, but I'm more than sure he doesn't think of me as anything more than a friend. We rarely get to see each other, and he's busy with his modeling career and helping with the family business and I'm just sitting here in my parents attic playing with fabric scraps and freaking out about finals. He's got his whole life together and I'm just this…  This flailing mess with too much on my plate and not enough time for any of it." She motioned with her arms, swinging them wide and gesturing around the more than messy room. After a moment they came to a stop and dropped by her sides, and Marinette let her head drop, forehead bumping against Chat's shoulder. His hold on her waist didn’t budge, and aside from motioning around the room, she didn’t try to pull away. "He deserves someone way more put together than me. Hell, I still have a hard time trying not to get all tongue tied when it's just the two of us and we've been friends since I was fourteen. What kind of girlfriend would I be if I needed some kind of chaperone to even talk to Adrien like a normal human being?"

Chat brought his free arm around to give her a soft hug, leaning his head down to rest his cheek against the top of hers and offering the photo back to her, but she made no move to take it.

"A really adorable one." He hummed thoughtfully. It was hard to believe she was still pining for him. Since he'd put two and two together, though, he'd been hesitant to act on it. But in the last month he'd done quite a bit of thinking. Definitely more than he’d usually allow. Definitely more than was usually safe. The renewed revelation was certainly food for thought.

Marinette loved Adrien, once upon a time.

Adrien, and simultaneously Chat Noir, loved Ladybug, and whoever she was behind the mask, from day one.

Chat Noir, and simultaneously Adrien, had grown to like, maybe even love Marinette over the years, but he'd constantly pushed the most romantic of those notions well out of his head. His heart belonged to his Lady after all and even faced with rejection still wanted to remain faithful.

But now, Marinette _was_ his Lady, and he could let those feelings flourish and grow, giving life to a love stronger than he'd realized possible.

_Except_ for the fact that Ladybug had refused to kindle anything beyond the love one partner may have for another partner. He'd been partner-zoned something fierce. But she'd done it out of love, and he'd had to accept that.

But there's the rub.

Marinette _still_ loved Adrien.

And this news threatened to change a number of things.

"If this guy, Adrien, asked you out now, what would you say?" He barely had time to clear his nose from bashing zone Marinette's head shot up so fast. He blinked at her, wide eyed.

"Yes." She faltered, it sounded almost desperate for a moment. "I mean, maybe? P-probably? I mean it'd be rude not to, and it could be fun, but I mean..." She shook her head. "It's not going to happen."

"Why would you think that?" He loosened his grip on her waist a bit, in case she wanted to move. He didn't want her to feel like he was grilling her.

" 'Barely notices me." She shrugged. That hurt. "At least in _that_ way. We're still good friends, but whenever we hang out, it's always us in a group, and like I said, it's been years and I still trip all over myself when I'm around him, even now.” She gave a derisive snort. “He probably just thinks of me as the klutzy tag-along friend, because I'm friends with Alya, 'n Alya and Nino have been inseparable, 'n Nino's his best friend."

_Meowch_. His inner Adrien felt like such a heel. He blamed himself. And by himself, he meant he blamed his Chat side. It was hard to keep separate the things he knew as Chat and the things he knew as Adrien. He could only imagine it was the same for Marinette, keeping a lid on her Ladybug side around Alya. True, he probably didn't talk to her directly as much as with Nino and Alya when they hung out, but he hadn't realized keeping his own lid on things had left such a negative impact.

"I doubt that, Marinette." The words came out soft, almost like a comforting purr. "He'd be a king among idiots if he couldn't see how absolutely amazing you are. You're kind and talented. Brave, outgoing, creative." He tilted his head towards her, trying to catch her eyes. "Charismatic and funny, and smart as a whip. Strong and charming and delicate and just fun to be around." He tightened his hug again for a moment before letting her go and placing both hands on her shoulders, the picture of himself fluttering to the ground and out of sight somewhere. "Your designs are amazing beyond all reason, and you kick ass at video games, AND you can bake circles around pretty much anyone in Paris." A pause. "Well, except for maybe your parents." He chuckled as a small smile finally returned to her face. "Plus you live in a BAKERY. How awesome is that? Come on, he's at least noticed the bakery, right?" He wiggled his eyebrows. "Fastest way to a guy's heart is his stomach, right?"

"Fastest way to YOUR heart at least." She brought her hands up to pull his from her shoulders to hold them between them with a small smile. "If Adrien thought even half as highly about me as you do..." Marinette trailed off, shaking her head.

Chat Noir pulled her hands up to his lips slowly. He watched her as she watched her hands in the slow ascent. A few inches away and she'd usually pull them out of his grasp, deny contact. Break the connection.

Her skin was remarkably soft.

His lips lingered against the knuckle of her right for a moment before placing another light kiss against the space next to it.

She was holding her breath. He could feel the tiniest tremble through her hands as he moved from one to the other, ghosting his lips over the surface as he let his eyes fall closed.

Gently he shifted her hands in his, delicate with his claws as he pressed thumbs against her palms and carefully guiding her fingers open. She let out a breath slowly and he pressed another kiss against the tip of the pinky on her left hand. Then her ring finger.

At the middle she gasped, and he could feel her watching him lay his lips slowly across each digit in turn. They twitched a fraction, and he paused, but she didn't pull her hands away.

She steadied them in his loose grip. He pressed his lips to both of her thumbs at once.

The things he'd seen her accomplish with these hands...

He knew their strength. Their dexterity. Their poise. He knew how meticulous and precise they could be, how fast they could move, and how hard they could strike. But he also knew how gentle they could be. How he trusted these hands with his life like no others.

"My Princess..." He resumed the feather-light kisses, finishing what he started. His lips lingered at the tip of the smallest finger on her right hand as he pulled up from the last of them. "... There are so, so many things I wish I could tell you. So many things..." He sighed. "So many things that I know you need to hear. But they wouldn't mean the same things coming from me."

He finally opened his eyes again and gave her a weary smile that matched her own as she brought her palms up to his cheeks, cradling and framing his face in her hands. A generous dusting of deep pink brushed over her cheeks and the top of her ears, down the sides of her neck and disappearing under the wide collar of the night shirt she wore, and he was mostly sure that had nothing to do with her drink choices of the evening. Chat could barely tell she was breathing as she stared at him, almost like he was a stranger, but with a sharp twinge of deep recognition that was almost unnerving. Almost like she was seeing him for the first time after all these years. The invisible mist of playful flirting and assumed jokes had finally lifted, it seemed.

"You don't know that." Her small smile quirked into the tiniest little smirk. A bashful smirk that wasn't sure if it really wanted to play. "Maybe they would."

His eyes widened for a moment. "Marinette..." His hands rested atop hers and he leaned into a palm. "It's not nice to tease when I'm trying to cheer you up. Very un-purr-fessional."

"Oh?" She pulled his face down towards her suddenly, catching him slightly off balance, but not enough to topple them as she leaned in only a few inches away. "And sprinkling your pep talk with puns is? I got mews for you kitty." She kissed his nose suddenly before releasing his face from her grasp. "It's not."

He chuckled, the dense, dampened mood lifting from the room a bit, though he didn't move to right himself. "You keep trying to woo me. It's working." He winked.

She laughed.

He grinned.

She finally pulled her hands free from his, an easy task, and clasped them behind her back with a thoughtful hum.

"Maybe."

He eyed her.

"Maybe?"

"Yes, maybe." Marinette leveled a cool glance down at him and he finally stood up straight again. She'd lost him.

"Maybe...?" He quirked an eyebrow.

"Maybe he's competition. Adrien." Oh. OH. Oh the joys of fighting against himself.  He shook his head.

"I guess I've got my work cut out for me, then." He sighed, resting his hands on his hips as he looked about the still-messy room. Oh, gee, look at all the scraps of black fabric. I wonder which one was the one Marine-

"I don't know about that." -tte needed. His eyes froze as they lingered on nothing across the room. Oh, was that wallpaper? Was it peeling? Was that some kind of wooble in the paint or someth- "You actually might be way ahead of him..." -ing? Oh boy. "It's... Actually nice to feel like someone actually knows me and not just..." Oh Chat Noir what did you just step into. "Just a part of me."

His head snapped around, back to her, in an instant. What was happening. Was she going to... Going to tell him? He swallowed hard, watching her carefully. Did she know? Did she know he knew? Did she figure out he was Adrien? Was she going to tell him SHE was Ladybug and call off the 'no romance' thing?

"Adrien only knows the me that's a bumbling anxious mess around him." _Oh_ . He forced himself to let the instant tension he'd built up in the half-moment prior seep out of him. "He knows the clumsy, stumbling me more than anything, but it's so easy to talk with you, and joke around, and I don't feel like I have to hide when something's funny, or when I'm upset about stuff..." _Oh, oh no, oh shit here it comes._ "I can just, be myself when you're around." _Oh? Ok, this is fine_. Every time she opened her mouth to speak, he could feel his blood pressure skyrocket. A few choice phrases and his mind had been conditioned into full panic mode over something as silly as information he'd already figured out on his own.

"I... Understand. I think." He finally let himself relax again fully. Almost fully. His heart was still thundering, but it was getting itself under control. "There have been so many times I've wished I could just tell someone who the real me is. So I wouldn't have to be just Chat Noir, or just... Just the guy under this mask." He tilted his head, nearly crossing his eyes as he gestured to the thing on his face like it was offensive, winning him a small chuckle. "There's always two sides to a coin. But they're still the same coin at the end of the day." He nodded.

She nodded too.

"Marinette..." He gave it a beat, waiting just a tick for blue to meet green as he looked at her. "For what it's worth, you are the most amazing girl I've ever met." The words, he hoped, left his mouth with a sense of conviction that couldn't be challenged.

Then again, it was rare for Marinette not to rise to a challenge.

"What about Ladybug?" She held his gaze, level and strong.

"You'd be her equal. If not more." He didn't miss a beat. Hesitation was defeat in a game of conviction. If you had to think, it was already over. He was delighted to see her jaw slowly drop, just the slightest amount. "Ladybug is amazing, but I know that she's just human. Just like me. And just like you. Underneath the magic, at the end of the day, we all have our flaws, and our shortcomings, and the things that haunt us in the dark when we go to sleep." He pressed on. "No one's perfect, but where Ladybug has the same magic I do to make her, well, miraculous, you're miraculous all on your own."

To say he was pleased with the reaction he saw wouldn't begin to cover the truth. Her mouth hung open only the slightest bit, but her lips moved as if she were on the verge of speech. The rest of her stood stock still, barely wavering but balanced forward on the balls of her feet as if she wanted to step forward and close the gap between them, if only the invisible force that had her rooted to the spot would give up it's hold. And give her back her voice. Her eyes were wide and darting minutely across his face. He felt like she was searching for any cracks, any signs or tells that he was just saying things to make her feel better. Looking for any kind of wavering. A lopsided smile pulled across his face as he let his head tilt to one side slightly and he watched her eyes dip down to it. He let the smile pull a bit tighter, straightening itself out into a proper smile, and she closed her mouth, swallowing slowly. He relaxed for barely a moment, licking dry lips as he prepared to speak once more, but that's where he faltered.

In the next moment all he knew was lips pressing against his and his arms were full of Marinette as she practically tackled him to the ground. No, not practically, literally. He stumbled, falling backwards, arms encircling her protectively on instinct as they tumbled and she collapsed fully on top of him in a tangle of limbs. He grunted as his back hit the hatchway in front of the vanity, his head hit the ground, and her face followed through into his as they both let out mildly distressed grunts of pain.

Her body pressed against his with his legs framing hers. Marinette pulled up from the failed kiss with a squeak. Her hand shot out next to his head propping her up above him and the other coming up to cup her mouth where the two collided, pulling it away a moment later to check for blood. That must have stung for her. It sure had for him anyway, he surmised, his own gloved hand coming to rub his pinched lip, ignoring the knock the back of his head had acquired for the moment. He had a hard head, and it wasn't like he wasn't used to getting tossed around.

"Oh my god, Chat, I'm so sorry." She wasn't bleeding, thankfully. Flustered, yes, he noted but the distress on her face led him to examine his own hand a bit better. Oh. Yep, that's blood. She started to push herself up from him, attempting to scramble away. "Here, let me get you-"

"Wait!" His clean hand shot out to grab her arm, halting her retreat as his own blush spread out from under his mask. "I-it's ok. I've uh, taken a lot worse hits than that, heh." He licked his lip, swiping the blood from the edge of it, then licking over his finger as he watched her settle back against him. Very closely against him. Very, very nicely against him. "It's ok, really." Her brow furrowed as she stared at his lip. "It'll, uh, be healed up soon enough." He chuckled under her weight. "Cat's honor. Besides." She looked confused for a moment and he winked. "Totally worth it."

His mouth tasted like copper but it was pocket change compared to what he'd received for it. He licked his lip again idly, knowing it'd be bleeding for a while, but with her eyes on him, well, he'd be lying if he said it wasn't amusing watching her eyes follow it every time.

"What's wrong, Princess?" He purred, slipping his sullied hand behind his head as a cushion, grinning like a cheshire up at her. "Cat got your to-"

"Marinette? Is everything ok up there?" A distinctly masculine voice called from down stairs. Chat stared up at her, frozen with the kind of fear he thought only existed in fairy tales and biblical references.

"Y-yeah, Papa! I just, uh, d-dropped a bolt of fabric." Fear. Fear was a palpable thing. No akuma had ever had this effect on him before, but right now, he was sure that even though everything was ok, he was going to die. He was going to be murdered in cold blood by one of the kindest men he'd ever met if that door tried to open right now. "Sorry about the noise, I'll w-wind it down for the night."

"Alright. You should get some rest anyway, it's late." There was a beat, and a rather insistent. "Good night, Marinette. Love you."

"Good night, Papa. Love you too." She held her breath.

So did he.

Marinette stared at the hatch behind Chat's head like it was a venomous snake ready to bite and Chat stared up at the ceiling like it held his only salvation. Probably for far longer than they needed to, but Chat didn't dare make a move until the girl pressed against him confirmed the coast was definitely clear.

The minutes stretched longer until he finally felt Marinette begin to relax against him again. A moment later he melted back against the floor, boneless as he let out a shaky breath and drawing a light laugh from the girl above him.

"That," she said, "Was a close call." She looked down at him, tracing the lines of his face with her eyes.

All he could do was nod, returning a relieved smile up to her. Her arms settled over his chest as she crossed them and settled in. She looked comfortable as he watcher her, rising and falling slowly with every breath he took, far more relaxed than he'd seen her in a long while.

"I'm sorry." She started again. "About your lip." Her smile turned a smidge sheepish before shifting into a coy little bow-curve. "But I thought cats were supposed to be more sure on their feet."

"Princess, you could sweep me off my feet any day and I'd gladly fall for you every time." His lips parted in a grin, pulling at the small split in his lip and drawing his tongue out to swipe over it again. If he hadn't felt her shifting to free one of her hands, her fingers on his battered lip would have startled him.

"You keep saying things like that and a girl might get the wrong idea, minou." She whispered. The air was electric as their eyes met, and he swallowed. She pulled at his lip gently, rolling it under her fingers just a bit to get a good look at the slight gash from their collision. The bleeding had already slowed considerably, as expected. The touch lingered on for a bit longer than was needed, but he wasn’t about to be the cat to complain.

He couldn't tell what she was thinking. Try as he might, he was at a loss. Should he joke around or say something profound. Maybe go for poetic? Change topic? Be blunt and just go point blank at the maybe question at hand? He felt his brows pinch together slightly as he thought, and her expression fell.

Shit, wrong move.

What should he do, what should he...

He pursed his lips up against her fingers in a chaste kiss, smiling gently up at her from below them. A moment later he was rewarded with her lips replacing her fingers.

Soft.

His mind supplied the word as his eyes drifted closed. Her lips were so soft against his, nothing like the destructive hurricane he'd encountered moments ago. This kiss was tender and lazy, like a gentle summer rain. It was enough to wet the ground, but the heat of the day remained, and even if his shoulders got a little bit damp, he knew that the brilliant sun would dry them off before he'd be able to catch any kind of chill. His free hand drifted into her hair carefully, fingers threading into the dark mess as he drew her a fraction closer. Another reward came in the form of the quiet noise she made, a quick hum of surprise that he answered in turn with a soothing rumble of his own.

He felt her shift against him, leaning farther up against his body, felt her arm cradle against his own as it tucked under his head. Her fingers twined through golden locks, carding gently against his scalp around his cat ears and making his heart race. Another rumble, more prolonged, bubbled up through his chest and he startled in the kiss slightly, breaking it as he murmured her name.

"M-marinette...?" His lips still pressed against hers, but there was the most minute distance between them as he looked up at her curiously. His eyes slid closed slightly as her nails drug through his hair again, pulling another throaty rumble from the black clad hero known as Chat Noir.

Her lips curled into a grin of her own as she placed a tiny kiss against his lips, continuing to pull her fingers through his mane. "Is that a purr, chaton?" She eyed him in amusement. That was definitely amusement he saw glittering in her eyes. "Are you purring?"

Was he?

Probably.

Did he care?

Only because she seemed to enjoy it.

"It seems like it." He chuckled, offering a half shrug as he leaned his head more into her hand. He decided to return the favor, carefully untangling one of the ties that held in a ponytail, freeing one side of her hair and brushing his claws tenderly through, untangling tiny knots as he went. "I wonder if I could make you purr..." He grinned at the way her blush only deepened. Red really  was an amazing color for her. It brought out her eyes so brilliantly, he thought as he counted the freckles that always managed to hide just under the line of her mask.

"W-what did I just say..." She tried to pout. Key word being tried.

"Hmm? What do you me-ean?" His voice hitched as she tightened her fingers through his hair. Gently, but firmly. That certainly got his attention quick.

"If you keep saying things like that I'm going to start thinking that an alley cat like you is actually trying to seduce me." Her expression was hard to read. It was almost sad, but there was a deep longing he could feel absolutely radiating out towards him. But more than that, there was a thin veil of apprehension all wrapped in a dare.

"What if I am." Slowly Chat let the gloved hand in her hair trace down the edge of her neck, watching her intently as the fingers in his own hair tightened ever so slightly as a shiver rippled through her. The tips of his claws kissed her skin as they traveled to the back of her neck, down to the line of her shirts collar, and then farther still. Even through the tough fabric of his gloves, he could feel her press up against his hand just the slightest bit as it moved against her back, smoothing the fabric, and her nerves under his palm as it inched closer and closer to the hem.

At no point did she attempt to move away.

"Would that really be such a bad thing, Marinette?" He held his breath and his hand came to rest at her waist. The hem of her shirt had risen up with their fall, and a thin band of skin was on display, separating the nightshirt with a simple pair of flannel pants. The urge to let his fingers trail against that strip of skin, float underneath the shirt and up again was so strong it made his hand tremble. He could feel her eyes on him, tracing the sharp contours of his face and practically gauging them against the softer curves of his youth, following the line down his jaw, the angle of his neck down into the collar of his suit. Growing up had certainly done a number on both of them.

The moment could have lasted an eternity and Chat wouldn't have been able to tell.

"You have no idea." She finally murmured, pressing her lips in an open-mouthed kiss against the pulse at his throat and he gasped in answer. A breath later and his gasp turned into a startled groan when teeth met skin and she nipped him. More than nipped, actually. His hand bunched against her shirt as he pulled the other free from behind his head, tilting back just a bit at the sudden turn the tides had taken. This was new. This was very new. It seemed like he still had a few things to learn about this sweet girl.

Fingers tightened in his hair as her other hand splayed against his chest, and for a single moment Adrien wondered if he'd made the biggest and best mistake of his life. This was NOT what he'd been expecting. The feeling of teeth dragging down his throat, of the lithe body of coiled muscle pressed against him, of the undeniable power that the girl - no, woman - above him exuded as she explored his neck with teeth and tongue, nipping little marks into somehow still-delicate skin as a blatant calling card that she had been there. Had he not trusted Marinette with his life, he might have been a little bit worried.

But he did.

His free hand hung in the air at a loss of what to do. The sudden... voracity... had caught him more than a little off guard as, dare he say it, love bites turned into hot, open mouthed kisses against his neck, drawing another undeniable purr up from his chest. And there was no way at all for him to deny that at that exact moment, as she leaned forward and gently nuzzled down into the crook of his neck, that the sharp ache he received from the bite she'd just delivered was anything shy of the most erotic thing he'd ever had the pleasure to experience first hand. It was possessive. And anyone that saw it the next day would know that Adrien Agreste was definitely off the market.

His dad would shit himself.

Well, he'd come to that conclusion later when he was examining the distinctly teeth-shaped bruise right above his neckline in the mirror the next day, anyway.

To his credit, he hadn't yelped when Marinette bit him. For that he was proud of himself. But that was about it. A few nibbles and he couldn't help the fact that he was breathing hard, and the consistency of the rumbling purr from his chest was still something to get used to. It had happened a time or two, getting praise from Ladybug tended to lift his spirits more than anything, and he'd catch a breath or two where it was accompanied by a gentle vibration, but he'd been able to keep that little tick to himself, mostly.

His free hand hovered in the air, and he wasn't honestly sure what to do with it. He wasn't sure what to do with the rest of himself either, if this was some kind of 'gentleman test' or if this was a major green-light of some kind. He hoped it was the later. OH how he hoped it was the later. But the last thing he wanted to do was take advantage of the situation, and it had been drilled into him time and time again that if alcohol was involved one wasn't supposed to make rash decisi-

She rolled her hips against his and he choked. She was looking at him. Right at him. Inches away. Her face was so close he could literally smell the hints of vanilla from her breath.  Her body was pressed flush against his. She was laying between his legs. And she'd rolled her hips against his own in the most provocative way he could've possibly imagined.

This wasn't fair.

"T-that's not fa-air!" She did it again, and he found something to do with his free hand.

That would be to clamp it over his mouth to at least attempt to stifle the needy… whimper?... moan?... Noise that followed her actions.

She smiled innocently at him, but that smile didn't reach her eyes at all. Her smile said 'that's cute, you're cute', but her eyes spoke volumes on the all different ways she was planning to devour him.

If he'd died in that instant, he would have died happy. Thankfully he was still able to suck in a greedy breath of much needed air, supplying oxygen to his brain as the blood that would usually circulate there, and throughout much of his body had seemed to go on a vacation. Or rather, two, as Marinette's quiet giggle at his, er, predicament became much more noticeable in the form of a deep blush.

The boner wasn't helping his case much either.

"But kitty, all's fair in love and war." That little upturn of her lips would be the death of him if her hips didn't finish him off first. And she spoke so quietly, everything she said was like a little secret only meant for him. And definitely not the ears of her parents. The hand at her hip gripped her against him as she shifted, gearing up for another delicious, torturous grind and the promise of it alone drew a groan from his lips. Only she didn't, stilling as soon as he'd firmed his hand.

She was laughing at him. Quietly still, but the fire in her too blue eyes danced at the fact that she'd conditioned him in barely a moment. Sneaky.

His heart was pounding in his chest under her hand, and he realized she was propped up just enough that he couldn't tell if hers was as well. Very sneaky.

He did not pout. Not at all. Not that she could tell with his hand over his mouth, even if he was. No sir, not this cat. If she wanted to play dirty, well, he... He could totally play dirty. If he wanted to.

Did he want to?

How did you play dirty when your partner had the upper hand already?

Why did the internet not prepare him for this scenario?

Marinettes eyebrows rose slightly, snapping him out of his thoughts and he realized he'd been staring right at her.

"You alright, Chaton?" She tilted her head a little bit closer and all he could see was her face and a cascade of dark hair to one side. No, no he wasn't alright. He was magnificent. He was so flabbergasted with good feelings it was hard for him to even comprehend where his hands were anymore. On his mouth, and on her hip, his brain oh so politely supplied. Maybe he was a little bit more there than he'd thought himself to be. After a moment's respite at least.

He nodded, hesitantly taking his hand away from his mouth, determined to use his words. "Y-yeah." It came out hoarse and breathless, like he'd just trekked out of the desert, tempted by the oasis of her eyes. He felt he was drowning watching himself die of thirst at the same time. "Yeah, I'm good." The most eloquent answer.

"Only good?" She pursed her lips and alarm bells rang in his ears.

"Maybe better than good." He leaned up, testing the tug against his hair and pressing an almost timid kiss against her lips. The tug, for reference, didn't let up. Her hand simply moved with his head. Apparently the decision to participate was something she'd approved of.

Awesome.

She hummed slightly, shifting above him. Not quite rocking, but just...Squirming slightly. Definitely moving, but it was hard to predict and had the fingers against her skin twitching with every little shift. It was nice but so incredibly frustrating at the same time, and he knew she knew it.

His heart was pounding. He wanted to lick his lips again. His eyes darted to her lips for a moment, and he let out an audible sigh at the sight of pink rather than red. At least his lip had stopped bleeding.

Fingers tensed against his hair again, gently. "Eyes up here, kitty."

He was drowning in blue again as fast as his eyes could move. A simple 'yes, my lady' died on his lips, crawling out as a soft whine. This was dangerous. This was very dangerous.

Had be been able to actually talk right now, it would all be over. The last month or so it had been hard enough not to let slip his favored pet names for her, sticking simply to 'Princess', when he had all his wits about him. At this point all bets were off, and his mouth was a ticking time bomb.

Belatedly he nodded. Every movement sent little shivers over his scalp with each answering tug.

She rewarded him with another kiss, letting her eyes slip closed as her lips pressed pliantly against his. The fingers in his hair finally relented, and he almost, almost whined into the kiss, until the hand shifted to cradle the back of his head. He pressed up gently into the kiss, torn between relenting to her whim or pressing his luck and daring to be daring. Her fingers dragged lazily against his scalp and he in turn let the hand at her hip scoot the slightest bit against her skin, curling up against the small of her back and pressing the pads of his fingertips against the exposed area. He was almost nervous to let his eyes slip closed. Was that ok? They were kissing, and that was nice. He still had one hand sort of floating in limbo next to his face. Should he do something with that? Maybe? Probably. Yes, definitely. Hair? No. Shoulder? No, no that might look like he wanted to push her away. That was the last thing he wanted. She still smelled of vanilla. What should he do with his hand?

The other flexed against her back, up her back, just a bit. He could tell he'd caught the hem of her nightshirt the moment he felt resistance  bridging over his thumb. _Oh god, was that too forward?_ Was that too forward for the girl... woman... that not a few moments ago had been literally grinding against him? He couldn't stifle a small groan into the kiss and felt her lips pull into a smirk against his own. Shit, she was barely even doing anything now, not that kissing wasn't anything it was amazing actually, but she was staying still, damnit. But he would. Not. Whine.

He would, however, press his thighs gently against her hips. Gently. Because he was, in fact, a gentleman. A gentle man, if you will. And  he would always, always be gentle. _Unless of course Marinette wanted him to play rough_ \- OH my god. Inner Adrien, you need to stop. You need to stop and focus on the beautiful woman in front... On top of you and just... Pay attention.

His inner turmoil left him still again, and Marinette pulled back from the kiss, this time definitely drawing a whine from his lips as his eyes flew open and DAMNIT he did it again. But she was so close to him, and they'd never done anything like this before, and every time one of them was over the other like this it was in battle and there was no time to think about things like THIS, and nice as THIS was and how badly he wanted THIS to be more than just THIS but if he couldn't even focus on them kissing then how could THIS even hope to become THAT, or even THE OTHER THING, and if he wasn't so painfully aroused right now he'd just want to curl up in a corner and cry because all his dreams were coming true and he was too overwhelmed to even pay attentio-

"Aah!" She rolled her hips again. The minx.

Even as she chuckled and he whined pitifully beneath her, he still wouldn't trade this moment for anything in the world.

"S-So... Cruel..." He wanted to cry. He wanted to cry in frustration at the situation he couldn't seem to control in the least. He wanted to cry in frustration that his mind refused to play on his side and just continued to condemn him to the babbling train of thought that wouldn't shut up. He wanted to cry because he was nervous beyond all reason that he was going to fuck this up. And he wanted to cry because he couldn't remember a time in his life that he was happier or more content than he was right now, laying on the floor with the love of his life, in her bedroom, and trying to keep quiet so her parents wouldn't chase him off with a broom.

Or a shotgun. He never thought Tom or Sabine were very much into fire-arms, but he had been wrong about lesser things.

"Should I stop?" Coy. A coy minx. That's what she was. Right now, anyway.

He shook his head, taking a deep breath as he leaned his head against her hand. He took a second for good measure. "I just..." He shook his head. "Can't think... Need a minute." He was positively unraveled, and she'd barely done anything. He closed his eyes, letting his idle hand flop onto his face and scrubbing at his eyes through the mask. He knew he didn't need to worry about it coming loose. Thank god. His chest heaved with another deep breath, and she mercifully gave him his moment. He couldn't believe how much the smallest things could effect him. Tiny touches, feather light kisses... those hips against his.

Well, maybe that wasn't the tiniest of things. He hoped she could agree.

The hand slipping out of his hair nearly made him panic and his eyes shot open again. "W-wait-"

"Shh, shh." She pressed a finger to his lips, effectively silencing him. "Easy, kitty."

He whined, realizing she was gently pushing up on his chest, putting a bit of distance between the two of them. He whined again, more insistently as she was, indeed, getting up it seemed.

His entire front felt cold. Exposed. The armor. It did nothing.

She knelt between his legs for a moment, hands on his knees, eyes trailing from his face, across his neck and smiling broadly... no, no that was definitely a smirk, damnit... smirking at the well formed red marks she'd placed there, across his chest as it rose and fell heavily in a manner he'd never admit to as panting, down the tensed planes of his stomach, and just a bit lower. His gut clenched at the same time her hands did, and her smirk only broadened.

He couldn't remember if he'd mentioned that Marinette would be the death of him. He couldn't remember a lot of things right now, it seemed.

The next thing he knew she was standing and all contact between them had been broken. She was walking over to her desk.

Chat scrambled, rolling over onto his side and curling himself up into a sort of sitting position, leaning more on one hip than the other and finally coming to rest in a half cross-legged position, leaning back on both of his arms. Did he mess up? She didn't look angry, or disappointed, or tense at all as she stood with her back to him.

He wanted to ask if he'd done something wrong, but he wasn't sure if he really trusted himself to talk again just yet. It was certainly easier to think without her pressed flush against him, but his body ached for her warmth again. The night air dropping down from her still open roof-hatch was doing it's job quite effectively. He couldn't imagine she was able to keep warm adequately with just pajamas on. Pajamas that, to his amusement, were riding rather low on her hips. The shirt had fallen back into place, but the bottoms were slung low against her, well, bottom. Quite low, actually. His brow furrowed momentarily before shooting up into his hairline.

OH.

She wasn't wearing panties.

OH.

She wasn't wearing panties, and she'd been grinding against him with a vengeance.

OH.

She was looking right at him. He paled.

"Uhm, I was just- I mean I wasn't- it's just that your- I mean- you should maybecloseyourhatch-THE hatch," He pointed straight up above her bed. "Balcony. Cold. Are you? Cold? Are you cold? Is it cold in here? Maybe you should put on a jacket? If you're cold I mean, ha haha ha." He swallowed.

Her eyebrows drew up as she tried desperately to hang on to a casual face, but with each sputtering outburst her resolve cracked and soon she'd dissolved into a series of stifled giggles intermixed with a few little snorts, clutching her now full mug protectively and attempting not to fling its contents around the room as her shoulders shook, doing everything in her power to not bend in half with laughter.

"Oh m-my god, Chat." She couldn't help it, it seemed. She held out a shaky hand to him, offering the mug as he stared wide eyed. "Is this, haha, is this what I sounded like? God, it makes so much sense now." Her head shook as he finally took it, if only to help her avoid spilling it. There was still fabric all over the room, and he didn't want to be the cause of important samples getting ruined. "Drink. It'll help." She still shook a little with mirth, shaking her head at the mess the ever eloquent Chat Noir had become in only a few minutes, and taking the steps up to her bed two at a time. She'd humor him, making quick work of pulling the roof opening closed.

He looked at the mug. It smelled like vanilla. Hm.

"It's not that strong." She hummed, carefully sliding off the edge of the loft and landing gently in front of him. She was so graceful when she wasn't actively tripping over something, and even then she tended to catch herself before she actually fell these days. "I wasn't sure if you, uh, drink at all. I mean, a cool cat like yourself, but then, being a hero and all..." She trailed off, genuinely unsure. Chat was a little bit more than familiar with adult drinking, but the implications of a superhero boozing it up at frat parties or other raucous events did leave something of a bad taste in the public's mouth. Especially when he'd been the literal poster child for a bunch of those school posters for 'don't do drugs' and 'don't drink and drive' campaigns. "Actually, if you don't drink that's ok too. I just thought it might..."

He took a sip. With Marinette settling a back into the ‘calmer’ side of her he was a little more used to, it was easier for him to start wrapping his brain around thoughts other than just how close she was to him in millimeters and the other scents he'd been able to pick up under the vanilla that lingered around her tonight. Cinnamon was definitely one of them. The smell of fresh bread as well as a lingering sweetness. He wondered if she'd worked in the bakery today, or if that's just what she always smelled like.

"I... drink. I'm hip." He was not hip. The fact that he used the word hip proved how not-hip he was. "I uh, thanks. I think I needed this." He watched her over the rim of the mug, the tight smile she was fighting to keep off her face, the hand reaching up to cover her mouth as she was obviously failing at it. His brow furrowed. "Come on, it wasn't that funny."  He pouted, looking away as he took another sip, drinking slowly. He could see her in his peripheral vision, stepping closer, too close,  and kneeling down, oh boy, to sit beside him again. It took a minute for him to look back at her once more. He took a defiant gulp of the soda and vodka mixture.

She let out a sputtering snicker, and he lowered the mug to his lap.

"Ok, what's so hiss-terical?" He glared, half playfully, half very, very confused. The pun only seemed to make her laugh harder, and his eyes narrowed. She just pointed at the mug. Oh no. Had she drugged him? Was this the kind of stranger danger situation Nathalie had always warned him about? Not his Marinette! His eyes widened as he looked down at the mug, noting the small pawprints that walked their way up and over the handle. He quirked an eyebrow, turning the mug around. On one side, the one he'd seen, it was a simple, plain mug. As he twisted it around, however, the other side had a simple kitty mouth and nose painted near the rim.

"You've gotta be kitten me." He deadpanned. He'd been pun'd by a mug. He'd been PUN'D BY A MUG. "It appears I've been mugged." He pursed his lips, nodding slowly at the mug, and then at Marinette who could barely contain herself. "Well played. Well played, indeed." It was not every day someone could get a leg up on Chat Noir, punmaster. Today, however, was one of those days.

He tipped the mug to his lips, slowly upending it as he finished off the drink like a shot, feeling the burn of carbonation all the way down into his chest and letting out a satisfied breath. He leveled a bemused look at Marinette. "Well, don't you look sMUG, Princess."

She snorted.

He grinned.

"Like the Chat that got the cream." She smiled, leaning against his left side and resting her head against his shoulder. His eyebrows rose. His head fell. Gently. To place a kiss against the crown of his Princess's head.

"Not quite." There wasn't much alcohol in the drink she'd handed him, but the simple break from earlier had done wonders to steady his nerves already, and a little bit of liquid courage could go a long way when one's heart was already into it. "I think we could get a much better example for that purrticular phrasing." He purred with his voice, gently nosing against her hair. He had to admit, she smelled wonderful. The light floral fragrance from whenever she'd showered that night still lingered, fresh and clean. Underneath he could smell the vanilla once more, probably from his own breath, but it still hung around her as well. Maybe it was real vanilla, coming from the same place the cinnamon and sugar and fresh warm bread stemmed from.

His heart was still thudding in his chest, but it was a far more manageable level now. One he was used to.

"Mmm." She tilted her head up towards his, her nose bumped his chin, nowhere near the collision from earlier, their lips touched, barely brushing. "Big talk for a kitten." She kissed him tentatively. Almost like she didn't want to overload his circuits or something silly like that.

He was so used to her teasing him. Every time they were on patrol. Every akuma fight. Every time he visited her balcony it seemed. It never bothered him before. It never affected him in this way. So why was it now that the playful barbs she threw his way sent his mind spinning and a shock of heat straight to his-

Fingers worked their way up into his hair again and he hadn't even seen her hand move. They were mercifully loose, simply stroking their way up against his head, sifting through gold and gently massaging. If it wouldn't have embarrassed him to no end, he would have melted bonelessly against her like a ragdoll. Not to say he didn't lean against her hand intently for half of a second, before realizing that doing so would pull him away from her lovely lips. But he wanted to feel her hands on him again. Hand. She'd only used one hand earlier, damn it all.

Another frustrated whine left him, realizing how badly he was losing this battle. This battle not battle. This game. Determined, he brought both of his hands into play, fumbling slightly as he pulled his arm free from Marinette's leaning, bringing them to her face to cradle her closer and angling his head just so into the kiss. He couldn't really say that he was truly losing, though. Losing his mind, maybe, but for all intents and purposes, he'd categorize tonight as one of the biggest wins of his life so far.

She sighed against him and he could have sworn his heart did a backflip in his chest. He was distracting her from her project, but at the moment he almost couldn't care. He'd barged right it, but really, he couldn't bring himself to worry about that. His lip stung something awful, but it was easy to push that out of his mind as he took in the feel of the soft lips against his. As he pressed against them more insistently, feeling all the tiny muscles in her face reacting under gloved hands as he parted his lips the tiniest bit and hers parted with them. Like she'd been anticipating it.

Like she'd been waiting for him to push on.

His top lip slipped down slightly, and he pulled her lower lip between his, kissing it specifically and pulling back a hairs breath before melding them both together again. A little bit bolder. A little more insistent. Fingers curled in his hair, more, both hands, one pressing him closer, the other trailing nails to form miniature parts and draw up a return purrformance from the rumbling in his chest that he couldn't control. Wouldn't control, rather. He'd honestly never tried. Gentle vibrations rolled through his chest, his throat, his nose. Lips parted and he could feel it through his entire person, and the slight startle from Marinette told him she felt it too. He opened eyes he hadn't realized fell closed, just a sliver. Two lime crescents in the inky black of his mask. Her eyes were closed too. At least the sides were even it seemed. This round anyway.

His tongue darted out to lick his lips. It got caught between the both of them. He hadn't pulled back far enough it seemed, but the blunder had gotten him a surprise taste, and right now he just wanted more. Chat pressed in closer, closing the minute gap he'd created, gasping as Marinette gingerly caught his injured lip between her own. Turnabout's fair play and all that. He didn't whine but every nerve ending was electrified as she worried his lip between her own and he felt the tiniest graze of teeth. A gentle nibble drew an excited hiss softly between his teeth. She smiled around him.

Game on. Game. Fucking. On.

Her fingers tightened in his hair, and he growled softly in answer.

And she gasped.

His lip was relinquished, and he pressed forward again, her fingers be damned. But not really. God, how he loved her hands. And her arms. And her everything. He leaned towards her, slowly shifting the action into her personal space. Though how much personal space really existed when you were practically devouring one another's faces could be brought into question. But that wasn't the point. The point, now, was that his Lady, his Princess, his love, his Marinette had apparently been trying to egg him on earlier, and quite frankly, he'd cracked under pressure.

Not this time, though.

His hands abandoned their posts at her cheeks. One moving to cradle the back of her head, weaving fingers into her hair for a moment, pausing, taking a moment to gently pull out the one ponytail that had managed to remain from earlier, then diving back into the midnight strands. The other trailed claws gently against her cheek, down her throat and across her collarbone where it hovered for a moment.

"Scaredy cat..." She murmured, singsong against his lips at his hesitation. He almost pulled his hand away. If he dared, would he burn? The fabric of her shirt brushed up against his palm with the rise of her chest and it didn't light him aflame, so maybe?

"'m not scared..." The voice that left him sounded anything but confident. God, what had she done to him? He nuzzled his nose against hers, lips trailing kisses against her cheek and down to her jaw, exploring the soft skin and trying to set his focus higher than his hand. Claw tips caught against her shirt, the pads of his fingers pressing as he willed his shaking hand to behave. The sudden fullness nestled into the palm of his hand was...

It was perfect.

It was so perfect, her... her breast... oh god, it fit so perfectly into the curve of his palm. He sighed, warm breath rolling back against his own face, rebound from her cheek. He hid his face against her neck, and she giggled softly, stroking his hair as he swallowed back against the betraying purr that continued to roll through him. Please, someone tell him it came with an off switch. Anyone? Plagg?

A shiver rolled through him, straight down his spine. This was playing with fire. This was playing with fire and he was going to burst into flames at any moment. He was in heaven. Everything was wonderful. He didn't have this kind of luck.

But why was this going so... so well for him? He knew he didn't have this kind of luck, not at all. Misfortune was supposed to follow the holder of the black cat miraculous, right? Or was it the luck of the ladybug that brought this all around?

Ladybug.

His Lady.

Everything she'd done so far had only encouraged him. Far more than he ever thought would be possible. Than would be allowed.

He sucked in a breath, both hands flexing gently as he pressed his forehead more firmly into the crook of her neck.

If she didn't want this, she wouldn't allow it. And that meant...

That meant that this.

This closeness.

The kisses.

The hands.

The... everything.

She wanted it.

Wanted him.

But she couldn't have him as Ladybug. His Lady had stopped herself before, as well. It wasn't just him, and he knew it. He'd been right. But as Marinette. As a civilian, it wasn't anything to have a fling with a superhero. No strings attached. Just a lovely coincidence that could be forgotten and swept under the carpet, as far as the media was concerned. Not that the media would ever, EVER get wind of tonight. He'd personally see to that if anything ever came about.

It hurt, though, to think she'd given up on his civilian self, all because of his own ability to balance two halves of the whole of himself, in order to make room for himself yet again. It was maddening.

It was horribly unfair. That they couldn't truly have each other like this.

"Chat...?" Her voice held a note of concern. She was turning to look at him but he kept his face hidden, too wrapped up in his thoughts again. "Hey… I trust you." Her arm wrapped around his shoulders, comforting. She couldn't know what was troubling him, but the gesture was appreciated. Tension seeped from his shoulders and she patted the back of his head with her other hand. "You know that, right?"

"Marinette..." He relented, pulling his head up to look at her again. His brows knit together, wanting nothing more to enjoy the NOW but his mind kept wandering. She was basically giving him full permission, it seemed, and he was just sitting here messing it all up.

She looked down, and he followed her gaze. OH. His hand was still pressed against her chest. A quick glance up and he caught her eyes, chuckling and letting his nerves ring through the quiet noise.

She blew a purr at him. It was bad. It was very bad, actually. She made a face, and his weak chuckle evolved into something a bit more genuine at the slight look of embarrassment across her face. His thumb brushed against the curve of her breast idly, taking note at the lack of fabric ridge under the top material, eyebrows shooting up again. It was the middle of the night, no bra made sense he guessed.

"Sorry." Sorry? FOR NO BRA??? Or... The purr? Probably the purr. She was biting her lip, looking up at him through messy bangs, pink dusting the tops of her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.

He offered a lopsided smile, accepting the adorable, clumsy apology in her attempt at cheering him up yet again.

"I'd say leave purring to the purrfesionals, but..." He drew her face closer to his once more, lips pressing against hers in a chaste kiss. "I think you might just need more purractice, Purrincess."

Her lips curled back in a grin, only to be interrupted by a sharp yelp of surprise.

He'd done it.

He squeezed the boob.

Was he fourteen again?

Maybe.

Was he going to shy away again?

Definitely not.

His cheeky grin at her startled noise gave him courage to press on, press more firmly against the soft, malleable flesh, and to his delight his princess only leaned into it, her chest pushing up against his palm. He watched her on high alert, even if he was giddy on cloud nine himself, for any signs that he needed to leap back ten feet and give her some space. The hungry look in her eyes as she let her lids flutter half closed reassured him that scenario was probably not even on the table, but the last thing he wanted to do was overstep her boundaries. As long as she was giving him the green light, though, he was hellbent to not disappoint.

No more thinking about what ifs.

No more worries.

"Marinette." Was that his voice? The depth of the rumble that rolled past his lips had almost startled him. He needed to ask. Only one more question and he could shut his brain off. Make it go on vacation, at least for a little bit.

"Chat...?" The whisper that answered him cut through the sound of their breathing. The gentle noise of her fingers still playing gently across the back of his head and the high pleasant grating of hair against hair. The slight shush noises of fabric shifting. The oh so occasional creak of the floor beneath their legs.

She would be his undoing one day, and he couldn't be more content.

"What do you want." He didn't want to go too far. He didn't want to push her beyond where she'd be comfortable. He was ready to give her the whole cake, or just a taste if that's all she wanted. Whatever she wanted. Whatever she didn't. He felt like she was urging him to take control of the situation. Take the responsibility of it all from her shoulders.  As Ladybug, he imagined she felt she wasn't allowed to want. A superhero wasn't supposed to be selfish.  A superhero should always put the needs of the people before their own needs. They should be a role model. They were to lead by example. Keep the city safe, keep each other safe. Any unnecessary dangers were off the table as soon as they came up.

As Marinette, he wanted her to have whatever she wanted.

"I want you."

A purr?

A growl?

A promise?

All three wrapped up into three beautiful words. Not the three he longed to hear most, but three he was over the moon to oblige.

The hand dropped from her chest and it's partner removed itself from her hair, startling her at the sudden movements. He shifted forward as he circled one arm around her chest, the other scooping carefully under her thigh, as his body pressed against hers. For a moment he felt her tense, preparing to lean back as she thought he meant to, but the startled squeak that left her mouth as he hoisted her up into his lap and stood tickled his ears and drew a broad grin across his face.

His lip pulled against the split.

He chose to ignore it.

"Chat!" She hissed, trying to keep her voice down as he turned with her, stepping out from under the overhang of her loft and effortlessly jumping up to where her bed was. He chuckled. No way was he going to make her lay on the floor while he... well... He wasn't sure exactly where this was going, but he was positive he wasn't going to stop until she told him to.

"Don't worry, my L- ah, my lovely," Traitorous mouth. "Just making sure you'll be comfortable." He dipped his head down to nip playfully at her neck, much as she had done earlier. To think, they'd be matching soon. Glee couldn't begin to describe how giddy he felt. "You'll be laying down for quite some time, after all." He rumbled into her ear and felt her shiver against him.

"A little warning would have been nice..." She pouted. He didn't think she was really that angry, though, as he knelt down against the rumpled comforter and kept her pulled flush against him. He could feel the heat of her body through his suit, a heady warmth that fit so perfectly against his frame. With it came a comfort he didn't think he'd ever be able to live without past tonight, and a safeness that could have lulled him into sleep in an instant had he not had other things to attend to.

"Would my Princess like her knight to announce all of his plans and spoil the surprise?" Her arms pulled tight over his shoulders as he gave the back of her thigh a squeeze. Like this she felt almost weightless, but still so solid. So _there_. She was shifting again, moving just slightly this way and that.

Restless.

Impatient.

Her.

He knew it. She'd never been one to take waiting well, especially when she wanted something. Even more so when it was right in front of her. Kneeling on her bed he rolled his hips up against her as she straddled him, the arm around her middle tightening as he made that silent promise.

"W-wouldn't want that..." She conceded with a quiet groan. He could practically hear her bite her own lip, and felt the the muscles in her neck tense as she swallowed. He was proud of himself. As much as he talked, and as much as he flirted, his real life experience was somewhat... lacking. At least he seemed to be doing well.

"Mm..." He nodded against her, letting her slide back along his thighs and onto the cushion below. “How about this, then.” He nipped again at her, right where her jaw met her neck. She flinched back slightly, giggling. A kiss. Warm lips against skin. He nipped again lower and beginning a trail.  
  
“I-it’s a start.” Her words were laced with giggles as she pulled him down with her. Following through, he leaned closer and, with the slight height he held over her from their positions, over her. He braced the hand against her back, other arm readying to catch them as gravity finally began to take over. She was so light. It was unreal. Everything in the heat of battle carried momentum, urgency, a sense of weight in every action that couldn’t actually be calculated in numbers, but everything always felt heavy. In the stillness of her room, no time limits, no enemies, everything was weightless. But the very real weight of her back bending over the arm trapped between her body and the mattress was enough to keep him tethered to the ground, snapping him back from his thoughts once more.   
  
A start? He smirked against her neck with a playful growl and curious lips. “Miaow.” He pressed an openmouthed kiss against the curve where neck met shoulder, tongue tickling against skin as he stole another taste and drew an answering… sound… from Marinette. If only he could still smirk with his mouth full, he thought before letting his teeth scrape against the area as the tiniest bit of warning before delivering a bite to match the one she’d given him.   
  
The sharp yelp startled him, and he pulled back suddenly. Not that he wasn’t expecting at least a bit of noise, but not something quite so loud. Did he bite too hard? How hard was too hard? Wide green eyes looked down to blue twins, both tilting gazes to her shoulder after a second.   
  
“Jeez, tiger, watch those teeth.” She wore a pout as she reached a hand to examine her shoulder, unable to actually see the two tiny little punctures dotted along the top half of the forming circle of red marks. He leaned back from her, one hand flying to cover his mouth. He had FANGS? How did he not know he had fangs? Technically he’d never actually bitten anybody before but you’d think he’d be aware of the fact he actually had freaking fangs sitting in his mouth.   
  
“I’m so sorry, oh my god, Marinette I-I didn’t think- I mean I d-didn’t know I had, uh, I’ve never… I mean, I don’t usually… bite… people...” His hands flailed in front of him, torn between trying to act as a shield between them and wanting to hover and tend to the miniature wounds he’d inflicted on his Lady. “Oh no... no, no, no, Princess… I’m sorry, I-”   
  
“Chat.” He focused on her at the sound of his name, mortified even though the tone was probably meant to be soothing. She hadn’t smacked him so that was a good sign. Right? Her hand was reaching for him. Oh boy, she WAS going to smack him. He just knew it.

  
Instead she grabbed the bell at the top of his zipper and tugged him back down to her. Arms shot out to brace either side of her, catching himself before he fully toppled. He was a bit dumbstruck. He was no good at this being intimate thing. He was sure he was just making a fool of himself.   
  
“It’s ok, kitty.” Her lips were upturned, amusement at his plight written across her face a plain as day. “You didn’t mean it. It was an accident.” Her free hand tapped him on the nose. “It’s O. K… Just try to be a little bit more careful.”   
  
He felt her legs against his as one brushed upwards rubbing up against his thigh, hip, and back down, and suddenly very much more aware of their positions once again. They were on her bed. He was between her legs looming over her. And she had him by the bell.   
  
“Especially if your surprises involve more...” She tugged him closer with a much too loud jingle amidst the soft sound of shifting sheets and flannel on… whatever his suit was made out of. “...sensitive areas.”   
  
He sucked in a sharp breath and didn’t dare breathe, only nodding in reply. Be more careful, got it. Duly noted. “As you wish...” He breathed out, and she relaxed back against the bed, releasing his bell and gently scratching her fingers up against his chin. His eyes softened as he leaned against her hand.

“Oh, I do.” She purred.   
  
He swallowed. Sometime he forgot just how bold she could be. Always a pleasant surprise, though. It never failed to stun him in the best of ways. And in the most intimate of places.   
  
Chat Noir didn’t bother to suppress the shiver that ran through him, turning his face to press yet another kiss against her skin, right into the curve of the palm of her hand, breathing in deeply to steel himself against his own thinking and pulling strength from the vision below him. How many times had he imagined scenarios like this? So many times had he played himself as the confident, suave, debonair prince charming ready to worship his Lady. His Princess. His love. It was funny to think all that practice had been entirely moot when brought to life. Fake it ‘till you make it, as they say.   
  
He nodded, both to her and himself. He could do this. He would do this. After all, it was her conviction that had brought him this far and he really didn’t want to let her down.   
  
Unsure and on borrowed confidence he shifted his hands, settling one into the duvet against her side and the other pressing flat against her hip, letting the gloved palm slip up and against her stomach. His fingers caught under the hem of her shirt and he sucked in another breath, watching the inky black of his hand slip the fabric up to reveal the smooth, pale planes of her stomach. Talk about the cat that got the cream, alright. The muscles of her stomach fluttered under his hand, warm even through the fabric as the shirt continued to slip up. His breath caught as she arched up off the bed just as it began to catch, preventing the halt of its climb. At least until the tips of his fingers met the gentle swell of her breasts.   
  
“Good kitty...” Marinette encouraged softly, trying to hold in a giggle as his eyes darted back up to hers. She was blushing. Deeply. He knew he himself sported an impressive splash of crimson across his cheeks, and he wasn’t entirely sure who was winning that battle, but it was reassuring. He wasn’t alone in his flustered state. Marinette was, apparently, just better at keeping up appearances. Probably for his own benefit, he gathered. “But you know, I’m not really that fragile.”   
  
She reached up again, letting her hands drape up over his shoulders and her head tilted.   
  
“Just trying to be a little more careful, Princess.” He wished the suit wasn’t there. He wished the gloves were gone. The hand against her traveled back lower, the contrast was striking and gorgeous. Claws trailed carefully over her skin, longing to feel her directly, but that wasn’t on the table. Not yet.   
  
“Really Chat,” she chuckled, letting her own nails drag against the skin of his neck and back up into his hair. God, yes. “You’re not going to break me.” There’s a thought. “Not like this, at least.” OH. There IS a thought.   


“S-should I be trying?” It was almost an exciting thought. He dipped his head lower, craving the feel of skin on skin, but with limited options, he’d have to make due. Lips explored once more, pressing against the curve where her ribs ended and, god, was it even softer than her neck? Everything smelled like Marinette. He peppered kiss after kiss against her stomach, working his way down, around his hand, across from one side to the other and letting the fingers in his hair idly dictate where he should go next. They didn’t pull or push, but every little twitch of her fingers had him changing his focus, making it hard to think beyond the points where they made contact.  
  
“I don’t know...” Another pleasing scrape of her nails up the back of his scalp brought the purr back full force. Well, she’d learned how to work that switch, definitely. Part of him thought that it wouldn’t be a bad thing. Not in the slightest. “...Maybe?”   
  
He nipped at her skin and she jumped. Maybe yes? The flat of his tongue pressed over the offended area and the only way to describe the noise that graced his ears was a coo. It was adorable. And sexy. And amazing and beautiful all at once. He nuzzled his face into her stomach, purring against her, content beyond anything he’d ever known. To think, they could have had this years ago. Months ago even. But they had it now. At least for now.   
  
He pulled himself back to the now, no more wandering thoughts. Now was time for his Princess. Another kiss. Another nip. Another soothing lick and he worked his way back up until the nose ridge of his mask caught on fabric. And beyond that…   
  
The purr in his throat dropped an octave. Taking the fabric in his teeth he leaned back. It pulled taut, and he kept pulling, looking up at her as he pulled her up enough to lift her shoulders up from the bed. The fact that her hands behind his head added a bit of extra support for her frame may have been cheating, but the look that he received for that little stunt sent all the heat on her face straight south. He was practically vibrating. Literally, if you counted the purr.   
  
He didn’t try to remove the shirt with his mouth. That would have been too silly. Even for him. For now at least.   
  
His hands trailed up her sides, along her back and briefly exploring the foreign planes that he’d memorized with only his eyes before and he reveled in the tremors that rolled through her at his touch. It was intoxicating. The shirt bunched against his wrists as he followed the roll of her shoulders up to her arms and farther up still. He held his breath when she helped guide it up and over her head finally.   
  
He knew she hadn’t been wearing a bra.   
  
He knew and he still wasn’t prepared.   
  
For all his fantasies, nothing could even come close to the vision before him, rumpled and perfect, hair loose and tossed every which way. Pale skin marred only by marks he’d left, the tiniest hairline trails his claws had left in their journeys, little nips dotted in the wake of his mouth, red patches where he’d lingered a bit too long with his lips…   
  
And one glaringly obvious bite, angry and red and something only he could have made, noted so by the tiny teeth marks granted from the odd powers of his miraculous.   
  
His eyes darted everywhere, down to where her legs pressed parted on either side of his own, the barely there ripples against her stomach as she trembled lightly in the still chill room, the heave of her chest as she took in each breath and oh. His mind's eye would never be the same. At no point would Adrien have ever called himself an artist, and the gap between what he’d always imagined versus what was currently before him spanned light years. Idly he noted she made no move to cover herself.   
  
Finally his eyes made it back to the work of art that was her face. Rosy lips, swollen from stolen kisses, freckles dotting a blush that could put sunsets to shame, and eyes so ethereally blue he knew if he stared too long he’d lose himself in them entirely.   
  
“Beautiful...” He could barely breathe. “Marinette… you’re beautiful...” He was afraid to touch her. He didn’t want to ruin this. His powers were distruction. His luck was literally the worst. He almost felt like he shouldn’t be there. Like he would ruin the moment if he stayed too long.   
  
“I know.”   
  
A record scratched in his brain.   
  
Did she just.   
  
The faraway look in his eyes disappeared with a blink of disbelief. “Han...” Oh my god. “Hanny no. You did not just make a Star Wars reference right now.” He hid his face in his hands. He’d even been kind enough to drop the puns while they were having this INCREDIBLY INTIMATE MOMENT. “Marinette, how could you.” He couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up.   
  
“Sorry kitten, but whatever fantasy world that mask seems to put in front of your eyes keeps pulling you away from me.” She pushed a finger up between his fingers, poking his nose. “And you keep making your ‘Princess’ wait.” She giggled, flushed, but mostly amused, sitting on her bed shirtless with a blushing catboy between her legs. “As flattering as it is to hear such sweet nothings, and as surprising as it might be to hear, there is such thing as taking things too slow.” She brought back the pout for a moment before her expression turned thoughtful. “Unless...”   
  
She had his full attention and he leaned forward slightly, letting his hands fall back away from his face.   
  
“Unless you’re worried about this being a one-time thing…?” She tilted her head towards him.   
  
“I… It might have crossed my mind...” He dipped his head, sheepish. “After all, if that Adrien guy is still in the running, he might snatch you out of my claws and I’d wa-”

Her finger silenced him. She didn’t look too happy.   
  
“It’s been years, Chat Noir. If he hasn’t made a move by now, I don’t think you really have to worry. And it’s been a long time since I… well.. Stopped holding out hope, I guess.” She sighed softly. “It took me a long time, and it was hard. Like really, really hard, but I did realize that while I’d been pining after one guy that’d never see me more than just a friend, I was completely ignoring someone that had been by my side for just as long that already saw me as… well.. Something more?”   
  
His face ran through a rainbow of expressions. Guilt, shame, curiosity, confusion, relief, confusion again.   
  
“Why do you… Why do you say it like that? Something more?” He tilted his head in question.   
  
“Well, until very recently I’d always thought he liked someone else, you see.” She stated. “He was always a playful show-off, and an incorrigible flirt. At first I thought he flirted with everyone equally and that’s just how it was.” She shrugged, leaning back on her arms. And posing. Definitely posing by the way the muscles of her stomach stretched taut and the slight tilt she kept to her head, looking up at him through messy bangs. “Turns out there were really only two people he flirted with so freely. And I was one of them.” Both of them. “But again, I still thought it was all just a game.”   
  
He swallowed hard. He knew she was talking about him.   
  
“Later on I had an epiphany about this guy. He didn’t really play games. Not cruel games like that, that would get a girl's hopes up just to dash them if said girl acted on it. Cause he’s sweet, and caring, and entirely selfless.” It was like a punch to the gut. A good punch, but it still knocked the air out of him. “Too selfless sometimes. To the point of being reckless beyond necessity. It made me start to worry about him, cause he keeps putting himself in these dangerous situations without thinking about what it’d be like for the girls he flirts with if suddenly he wasn’t there anymore. How quiet it would be without his shitty puns and bad jokes and showboating.”   
  
“Princess, I’m so-”   
  
“Shut up.” She snapped, but softened immediately, flopping back onto the bed. “There’s nothing to apologize for. You’re still here, and now that you know, you can fix it. Sorry’s just an excuse for the past.  Do something about the future and I’ll forgive you.” She grinned up at the ceiling, stretching her arms lazily above her head. “Well, do something about the future and something else and I’ll forgive you.” She winked at him.   
  
Ok, they were still on that road. Cool, cool. That was cool. His mind was reeling slightly from her words as she continued.   
  
“Anyway, this reckless, kind, beautiful, funny guy had always been hard to read a bit. I could never fully put my finger on just how serious he was, and I was tired of being hopeful all the time. And it was only recently that I realized just how serious he was.” She looked wistful for a moment, and he couldn’t help but think about that night on the roof more than a month ago. “I felt bad, not believing in him like I should have. Like I could have. So I thought to myself, ‘if he really is serious, and something… happens… then I’m not going to let him slip away’... Not again.”   
  
She always managed to leave him breathless. This _was_ more than just some throwaway civilian fling for her. It made his heart soar. It also promised to raise more problems than it would end up solving, but he was ready to take on the world.   
  
“Marinette…?” He wanted to make sure he was able to speak. That she was done.   
  
“Hm?”   
  
“I love you.” Her eyes widened. “More than anything. I’ve loved you for so long, but...” He hung his head. How could he say this without it sounding like he’d be betraying Ladybug _and_ without letting on that he knew that _she_ was Ladybug? “I don’t know when I fell in love with you. We were still kids, I know. I didn’t know it then, but I know I did. Love you, I mean. I was blind to it, to a lot of things, for the longest time, chasing my own pipe dream across Paris...” His hands clenched in his lap, framed by the soft fabric of Marinette’s pajamas. “I don’t regret it, but I feel like I should. I mean. I still love Ladybug with all my heart.” He heard her let out a sigh, but there was no backpedaling. “But it’s different. She’s like my other half. We’re partners, and I trust her with my life and the lives of everyone I care about. The lives of everyone in Paris. She’s one of my best friends, and I’d do _any_ thing for her if she asked. One of the hardest things… The one thing I didn’t want to do… She asked me not to love her. Not to be _in_ love with her. And it was like a hard slap to the face.”   
  
She was tense, and he couldn’t blame her. She didn’t know he knew.   
  
“But you know what? If she’d never told me, I don’t think I’d have ever given up… No, wait, that’s not right.” He picked his head up finally, shocked a bit at the tearful look to her face, but it didn’t look like any had fallen yet. Maybe he’d been a bit too blunt, but if she was going to lay it out for him, the least he could do was return the favor. Balance it out, like she always did for him. Yin and Yang. “More like… I guess she set me free?” His head tilted. “I had this goal, I’d make her fall in love with me too, and there was a time that I was pretty sure I’d succeeded. But you know the funny thing about it, even after I had, it wasn’t even up to us.” He held up his right hand, presenting the back to her as it hung loosely in between them, the now-black ring glinting in the light. “It was up to this. My ring. Her earrings. The things they represent and responsibility sitting on both of our shoulders. The same thing that keeps her name… her real name… away from me, and why I can’t tell anyone mine. She’s the only one that understands, and I’m pretty sure she understands better than I do. And it’s hard, thinking that at the end of the day there’s no one else for her to talk with about all this superhero stuff.” He offered a half smile. “There’s no way I can’t not be there for her. We’re the only ones we’ve got in this crazy job. I mean, not that you’re not amazing when all’s said and done, but out there in the thick of it, it gets kind of hairy, you know? Well, I mean, I guess you wouldn’t, but uh, shoot, this was a lot better in my head.” He scratched the back of his head, hesitant to look back at her. He’d meant to confess how he really felt about her, but ended up talking about the other her instead, and there wasn’t much of a way to work back around to his original point from where he was now. He sighed.   
  
“OK, so, I mean, what I’m trying to say is, that… that… I’m… an idiot.” He hung his head again. “I’m an idiot that doesn’t know how to deal with everything, and I’m selfish and I can’t really… make any excuses for anything, because I love her, _and_ I love you, but they’re different, but not really, and it sounds so… So shitty and stupid and I just shouldn’t open up my mouth unless it’s some dumb pun coming out of it, because I’m no good at being serious and I’m sorry.”   
  
It was quiet and he couldn’t bring himself to lift his head to meet her gaze. He hoped she knew he was an idiot. He’d never been good at sorting out his own emotions. At really interacting with people on a normal level. Sure he knew proper etiquette, but actually interacting with real people and not hobnobbing with the snobby elite just enough to get through an evening did nothing to prepare him for raw human emotion and dilemmas and conflicts and. And _feelings_. Or how to express some of the much more complicated things that happened when you grew incredibly attached to more than one person. Seemingly more than one person, he corrected himself mentally.

With a yelp he was yanked forward by his collar again. Not by the bell, but two hands gripped  onto either side of the high mandarin collar of his suit. He didn’t have time to catch himself this time, landing fully sprawled on top of Marinette and coming nose to nose with her, wide eyed.  
  
“You know, I probably could have guessed a lot of that.” She finally said with a lopsided smirk. “You don’t exactly hide how you feel very well, dummy.” It felt like she was staring into his soul, not allowing him to break eye contact even as his eyes tried to dart to other areas on her face. The curve of her brows was relaxed. Her lips kept moving, dripping words that washed away the tight coil of anxiety he’d wound within himself. Again. It really seemed like he was his own worst enemy half the time. The other half he could easily peg on the akuma of the week.   
  
“Chat.” Marinette.   
  
She closed the small gap between them, pulling him into a fierce kiss that burned like a hot iron on contact that swiftly morphed into something soft and sweet, comforting, gentle. And the world was ok. He relaxed into the kiss, against her. She hummed into the kiss and he answered in kind, kicking his brain into gear, molding his lips against hers as she began to crank up the intensity. Just as he was truly beginning to get back into the swing of things, she pulled back, breaking off the kiss, not quite out of breath, but her breath still came heavier. Probably because he wasn’t quite a twig of a boy anymore.   
  
“I love you, too.”

His jaw dropped.  
  
“Now stop thinking about every.” Kiss. “Little.” Kiss. “Thing.” _Kiss_ . “Your nerves have been making _me_ nervous by proxy.” She chuckled. “I want _you_ Chat Noir. Even if I can’t have _all_ of you, I’m ready for whatever you’re willing to give me.” She sighed, but there was nothing but good humor behind it as he watched her. “Which, not going to lie, I’m _hoping_ is a lot.” She gently bucked her hips up against him, biting her lip in amusement at just how easy it was to fluster him.

For the upteenth time that night, Chat Noir swore the petite mademoiselle beneath him would be the literal death of him. But at least he was a man that could definitely die happy now.  
  
“Well,” He gulped, super casually and not at all flustered, nope, no sirree, “Let it be known that Chat Noir has never been one to disappoint.” A grin spread across his face, not quite full of his usual unrestrained confidence, but far closer to it than it’d come all night. Was ne nervous? Oh hell yes. Was he going to let it show? Probably. Was he going to let it slow him down? Most likely a little bit, but hey, no use rushing through something this amazing, right? _Right_ ? He shivered at the sudden feel of one of Marinettes legs trailing gently against his calf and a giggle ringing up from the girl below.   
  
“Good kitty.” She winked. “You’ve always made me proud in the past.” And once more he was finding it hard to breathe. How was she so perfect? Or rather, purrfect, as the returning rumble confirmed the use of a purr related pun. She trembled under him as he started back up again, glad, a bit, for the odd little quirk provided by the miraculous, even though he was sure that in other circumstances it’d be sure to be a bane rather than a boon.

Her arms moved to wrap lightly over his shoulders and her lips were on his again. It was easy, this time, to lose himself in the kiss. Even though his mind was running in circles around his head, it was hard to find other things for him to trip over. Everything that was Marinette had him wrapped up in a safe blanket of comfort and warmth, in a soft bed of love. A bed that they were about to do unspeakable things in.   
  
He absolutely just giggled into the kiss, and she nipped his lower lip gently for the interruption, which only made him chuckle more. My, his Lady was demanding. He couldn’t say he’d expected it, but it wasn’t too much of a surprise, given her no-nonsense attitude in most of their battles, and gosh, when she put her mind to something, it was like trying to persuade a hurricane to change directions.

Not to be outdone, he finally dared do what he’d done on accident earlier, tongue darting out and swiping boldly, gently, against hers, and much to his… Amusement? Joy? Glee, they parted for him, and he dove in. Tentatively. Taking note in extreme detail of the slight differences in the dry softness of her lips after any lipgloss had been thoroughly displaced and the silky, wet softness of just beyond. It was intimate, the acceptance. So much more than a kiss on the cheek, or a peck on the hand. By all technicalities, he was, officially, inside her. Not in any vulgar kind of way, but it was still magical. And oh, it took all he had not to startle back as the wet heat of her tongue tapped back against his a moment later. Not that he could have, in any case. Her arms had snaked tighter against his neck, pulling him in closer as, oh gosh, she pressed herself up against him, arching off the bed and he could feel every taut muscle in her action, and _wow_ , Marinette was absolutely built. He knew she was in good shape, and that the double life of a superhero did a number on one’s physique, but the brief moments he’d actually ever had her pressed against him in the past had been just that. Brief, fleeting moments.  Languid like this on a soft bed with fluffy blankets surrounding them both was, she was like a pliable steel beam, even out of suit.   
  
He swallowed into the kiss, following her lead as they teased back and forth, letting her lead just as much as trying to stay one step ahead of her.   
  
He idly wondered if she’d had practice with this before.   
  
Had she ever had a boyfriend? He honestly couldn’t remember. He didn’t think so, but if not, how was she just naturally this… amazing?   
  
He mentally shook his head, grinning inwardly as he carefully trapped her tongue between his teeth with a soft, playful snort, and she pulled back. A pout with none of the usual annoyance behind it met him as he looked down at her, before kissing it away and placing a quick shower of additional kisses to trail back down to her neck. He shifted slightly, letting his hands settle up against her sides and carefully slipping his hands under her back, kneading against the exposed flesh there as he was very suddenly reminded that, no, she no longer had a shirt on because, yes, they had stripped it off earlier, and of course his chin wouldn’t end up nudging against the hem of her neckline because there _wasn’t_ a neckline there anymore and there certainly _was_ a clear path leading from said neck all the way down to the pullstring waist of her pajama pants. Oh boy. _Oh_ boy.   
  
Focus. He needed to focus. Focus on the beautiful woman in front of him and the way her fingers wound through his hair and the taste of the salty sweetness of her skin under his lips. He was ready to explore some new territory. He thought so, anyway. Aforementioned lips trailed once over the bite mark he’d left, placing feather-light kisses against it, still feeling a bit bad at the damage actually done, but her reassuring sighs halted that train of thought at the station. His tongue trailed over the reddened marks experimentally, drawing another shiver from her, and he filed away a quick ‘tongue is good’ note in the back of his mind. He worked his way slowly across her neck, eager to pepper the other side with just as much attention as the other had gotten, kisses, nips, and explorative licks mapping out every minor dip and curve, feeling her pulse against his lips, the way her muscles moved every time her breath shook. Sure he was taking it slow, but he wanted to remember every little sound and sensation she made for him.   
  
He nuzzled his way into the crook of her neck once more, lips playing carefully against skin as he found the area that mirrored the bite mark opposite. Carefully this time he let his teeth press against skin. Slowly, but firmly. He listened intently for discomfort, a quiet whine at the back of her throat let him know he was pressing the limit, and a quick tightening of his jaw, just a fraction, brought out a soft hiss, but no yelp. He pulled back, letting his bite loosen just enough that dragging his fangs carefully against the skin shouldn’t do much more than leave tiny red trails, if even that. Her fingers tightened in his hair as soon as he was free, guiding his head up and giving her a front row seat to the self satisfied smirk on his face. Was he nervous behind it? Undoubtedly, but the name of the game was ‘fake it till you make it’ and he hadn’t quite made it yet.   
  
“Trying to turn me into a chew toy?” Her eyebrows said glare, but everything else seemed to scream amusement.   
  
“Bad call?” He asked innocently, but he couldn’t manage to make himself wipe the smirk from his lips.   
  
“Didn’t say that.” Her fingers relented, rewarding him with a loving scratch against the back of his head. Her lips parted into a grin. “You sure are mouthy though.”

“Ah, but you knew that already, Purrincess. Besides, I don’t think you’ll be complaining about that much ever again.” He wiggled his eyebrows, trying to fight back his own blush at the bold statement.  
  
Marinette certainly wasn’t trying to hide hers as her grin parted into a silent ‘oh’ of realization. “Purroceed, chaton”.   
  
He leaned in to steal another kiss from her lips. Then her nose. Then back to her lips once more, so tempting they were. Again down her neck and he idly wondered if she had a scarf of some kind. He’d certainly done a number on her her neckline, and anything shy of a turtleneck would betray the fun they were having to anyone with a working pair of eyes. His eyes narrowed as he observed the area, the corners of his lips curling upwards as a plot unfolded in his brain. Maybe… Maybe he should let her in on the little secret he knew. Maybe she wouldn’t be quite so upset if she knew his secret as well. Explained a bit why he’d always seemed more distant as his civilian self, if she were willing to let herself have him as a civilian…

Maybe she’d be alright if he suggested they be together that way instead? He truly wanted to be able to take her out on dates, to dinner, to the movies, go on a day trip to the beach and just lounge together watching the sunset after a day in the sun. Take her shopping and maybe to a play, or a musical, walk through the fashion district and let her pick out all the materials she could ever want to work with. He could invite her to fashion shows as his plus one, and when he was modeling, he could get her front row seats and backstage access, hands on looks at all the new Gabriel designs. Maybe even work some magic with his father and bring her into the fashion world in style. Not that his word would be any means to get her through the door, but get her work onto his father's desk, it would cut out the hardest parts. He knew his father already liked the bit of work he’d seen, from a few contests over the years, and the couple of pieces Adrien had personally gone out of his way to show off. Getting her portfolio onto his desk, if even for an internship, would be more than enough to land her a permanent seat as a designer for the company, especially with her talents. He knew she’d be able to make it, with the right foot in the door.

It was a split second decision. It was a sneaky decision. It was a decision that very well might ruin his life. But the gain greatly outweighed the risks, and he felt if he didn’t do something about this now, it would either be another couple of years before he’d get the chance. If that.

He lowered his head into no-man’s land, uncharted territory, and placed an open mouthed kiss right at the center of her collarbone, sucking gently and letting his tongue play against the small spot he’d claimed in the name of the future. He worked the area, eliciting a soft noise, not quite a grunt but also not a moan, from Marinette. His fingers pressed carefully against her back, bracing on one arm and gently letting the opposing hand trail his claws delicately down her skin. Her back arched up into him and he smoothed his palm back up along her spine. His lips pulled up with a quiet pop, suction released, and he grinned at the reddened mark left in his wake. One down, and a few more to go. He shifted, trailing tongue and kisses to the area just over her left breast, nipping playfully as she hummed, either proud he’d ventured so boldly on his own or just enjoying the attention he was lavishing on her without the constant need for encouragement.

He was absolutely dazzled by how smooth the skin of her breasts were under his lips as he pressed another hot kiss against soft flesh. Soft in texture and soft in the way that it sank under his mouth. She was absolutely intoxicating. Adrien had always been a very straight-edged youth, and even once he had come of age, the most recreational thing he’d done was drinking at a handful of parties, usually under the watchful eye of his father and no less than three chaperones. The literal couple of student run parties he’d attended had also been under the watchful eye of no less than three chaperones, but said chaperones had been the ones to drag him to such parties, and were in fact his three closest friends. The two parties having been attended under the guise of a weekend study session. If his father knew, he’d probably have been put under house arrest for the rest of his natural life. He must _never_ know.

A gentle tug of his hair had him releasing the ‘spot’ he was working on, this one ending up much darker than the first, though he hadn’t spent nearly as long on it as the first one. He looked up suddenly, questioning in his own actions, and was greeted by yet one more amused smile, though this one held a slight bit of sympathy at his possible blunder.   
  
“They’re more… Sensitive.” She said simply. Of course. He was an idiot. “It’s alright, kitten.” She grinned and winked. “You’re new at this.”   
  
He blushed. She knew. Hell, she probably knew well before they’d even made it up to the loft. Before he’d even shown up, even. He just nodded, words failing him, and pressed an apologetic kiss against the newest mark. Only to give it a second try on the opposite mound. Or so it seemed. He still had a plan, and he hoped she didn’t catch on too soon.   
  
The soft sound of her head flopping back against the blankets reassured him that while she was surely paying attention, she wasn’t paying _that_ much attention, and he set to work again, this time occasionally lifting his mouth away and checking his progress. He didn’t want to bruise the skin, per se, even though when you got down to technicalities that’s exactly what he was doing, but not to the point that it would look like a bruise. Just a simple reddened dot against pale pink skin.   
  
Again he let his fingers trail claws along her back, varying the pressure and feeling her press up against him. How hard was too hard? How sharp really were his claws? She didn’t hiss at the action, instead drawing quiet keens and gentle coos as he hit different areas in their path. At one point he felt her absolutely shiver, the same kind as when you’d catch a sudden chill out of nowhere and the small quake was unavoidable. He pulled his mouth away, appreciating the shape and curve of her breasts and the slight wiggle of motion to them from the tail end of the action.

It was very adult of him not to giggle as he thought about something. The word nipple had always made him giggle. He was proud he hadn’t fallen victim to his own thoughts at the time as he locked eyes with the one… eyes?... Locked _his_ eyes on the one just below his current canvas, wondering just how it may feel pressed against his tongue. How it might taste. And he realized he really didn’t have to wait to find out.

Lips pressed a quick kiss against it, drawing a gasp from Marinette and the only warning she’d get before he was on her, tongue lapping roughly across the hardened nub suddenly. She gripped at his hair, pulling him closer a fraction.

He purred with joy.

She moaned.

His head almost snapped up, if not for the hands keeping him in place. That noise. That sound. It was his favorite. Damn everything he ever thought he knew about music, that was his new favorite song. More. Again. This was his new purpose in life, without a question.

His hips rolled against her as his tongue mimicked the motion over her breast and his arm slipped farther beneath as he steadied himself. The other arm freed itself but never broke contact as the tips of his fingers trailed against and over her side making her squirm. Another mental note. His Princess might be ticklish.   
  
His palm was hot against her skin as it ghosted up to cup her other breast, pawing at it gently as he tentatively rolled the tip of its counterpart between his teeth gingerly. A new noise, higher pitched, louder. He growled softly, under the purr, half in answer and half in frustration at the fact that anything much louder and they’d run the risk of getting caught. He had to temper his exploration with an edge of caution. Tonight anyway.   
  
His tongue returned and he kneaded at her breasts with mouth and hand, leather-clad palm dragging casually over one while he experimented with his tongue, slow broad strokes, quick flicks, tiny nips and gentle kisses, sucking slightly as he pulled away to glance up at her face.   
  
Her head was canted slightly to the side, mouth open, breathing steadily, but the breaths came hard. In the low light of the room he could see the lightest sheen of sweat, a few stray hairs clung to her brow, rose powdered her cheeks and down to her neckline, and one brilliant, blue eye was zeroed in on him. She had totally been watching him. He wanted to squirm. Her eyes on him made him want to move, to get closer and hide all at once at the thought of being caught in the act, but the act had been more than encouraged. It was exhilarating.   
  
He pinched her nipple lightly between his fingers, and her eyes squeezed shut as she gasped, her head falling back again. Everything was warm. Far, far too warm. He’d done that. He’d pulled that beautiful expression from her. Had anyone else ever seen it, or was this just for him? He hoped it was just for him. He added pressure, rolling it slightly and watched the muscles in her neck move. She pulled one lip between her teeth, biting it and made another soft noise, blowing a heavy breath through her nose.

She had said they were sensitive.

His fingers released it, only to give a light flick barely worth of the label and he grinned when her whole body jerked, her legs tensing tight against his hips and her hands tightening in his hair once more. He did it again, a little rougher, and got an equally reactive response. Again, and she tucked herself against him, and once more she cracked an eye to look at him with a look that was hardly withering.

“Ha-having fun?” She _almost_ yelped as he repeated the action a fifth time, and he had to nod in reply. He didn’t trust his words at the moment. She just laughed at him, breathy, full of air, soft. He brushed his thumb over the nub soothingly, rubbing gentle circles around it and felt her melt back against the arm beneath her.   
  
Just look at all these fun things he was learning. Oh he prayed he’d be able to come back to them again, and soon. With less possibilities for interruption, no less.   
  
He went back to his _fun_ quickly. He didn’t want her to get suspicious, too much, of the marks he was leaving. Chat set to work on another spot just below the middle of her breasts and hugging her up to him from the bed. Slowly working his way down, he’d lifted back up onto his knees slightly, missing the contact between them. Marinette did too, it seemed, making a small, sad noise above him. Her knees pressed against his hips and he rocked forward. Still no contact was made, but the definitely less sad hum that answered hinted she approved. The promises the future held were indeed sweet. Teeth touched skin in a gentle nip as he rocked once more, purring against her chest and checking the mark. Good enough.   
  
Again he dipped lower, just above her naval. He purred harder, sending little puffs of air dancing across her stomach. He could see the tiny marks he’d made early from the corner of his eye, following them up towards where he worked at her breast, mostly massaging it now, idly. A quick flick, and answering flinch, and he switched hands, pulling the one from below her out and bracing on his other elbow, as he attended to the breast previously forgotten.   
  
His own forgotten regions pulsed with a need he’d gladly _leave_ forgotten, for now. Now was Marinette time. Maybe it would be Adrien time later if luck should grace him, but for now, he could definitely wait.   
  
He made quick work of a fifth spot, smaller, not as dark, but definitely still visible against the pale expanse of her stomach, and as he leaned back further still, he had to pull his hand away from her entirely and himself from her own in his hair. Her hands fell to her stomach for a moment, resting as he rose before she resettled them above her head, looking up at him with eyes half lidded.   
  
Sitting up once more, he gazed down at his work, a self satisfied purr settling warm and constant in his chest. She was breathing heavily. Not quite panting in the way they would after a hard battle, but very akin to the way their breath would heave after a long chase. It was a comfortable burn, relaxing, satisfying.   
  
He wondered if his eyes were just as dark as hers. The mask had it’s own quirks that he’d only caught glimpses of in windows and the rare mirror. He knew his eyes were slit like a cats, as he was now, but what all did she see? Were they blown wide and more black than green? Were they sharp? Did the green unnerve her at all as it covered over everything, or was it something she’d become used to over the years?   
  
A hand gestured, casually waving a bit towards the head of her bed. His feet were at the edge of the loft.   
  
“I hate to trouble you, but I don’t think I’m quite flexible enough to… well… Reach.” His gaze flicked down to her pajamas then back up her body slowly and he licked his lips. “Not like this, anyway.” Inside his head his mind was screaming at him. Both cheering himself on and wondering what exactly he thought he was trying to do. He ignored half of it.

  
“Oh.” Goodness, she blushed all the way down to her shoulders. She sat up slightly, looking around with the slightest hint of panic, but he recognized the nervous smile on her face as the same one she got when someone she admired complemented something she was truly proud of. Like when his dad praised her work from his contests, or when… when he’d asked for her autograph the first year they’d known each other. Little puzzle pieces from years past were always clicking into place the longer he knew her, sewing together actions and meanings.   
  
During his musings she’d managed to scoot herself closer to the head of her bed, her shoulders resting back against the giant white tiger-cat pillow that she’d had for who knew how long. He realized he’d never asked her about it, and almost did. Perhaps later, though. Either way, there was now plenty of room for him to sprawl out on, on the bed once more, and he planned to use this space to his full advantage.   
  
He let himself drop to his hands, still a good bit of distance between them, and let rumble a low growl, eyes set on her own as he took a first step forward. The sudden stiffness she sat with pleased him. Good. Just like that.

Pulling out his best Chat-Smirk, one that had become his go to for ‘sexy’ modeling jobs, he advanced, his heart pounding in his chest like it was trying to break out through his ribcage, watching her eyes widen slightly at his apparent shift in attitude. He passed the point of her knees, one more hand-length forward and the final ‘step’ brought him inches away from the valley of her legs. His other hand moved, gently pressing her knee away, farther, and she bit her lip again. He could see the rise of her chest increase dramatically. His smirk widened, showing the tiniest bit of teeth. Maybe a fang. He honestly couldn’t tell, but in his mind's eye, it was a toothy smirk. He just hoped he didn’t look like an idiot. His hands switched positions, and she began to bring her leg back in.

He growled before his mind could form verbal words to correct her. The instantaneous freeze was delightful. On the outside he was a sleek predator on the hunt. Inside he was a giddy schoolboy that found the best hack for an amazingly hard video game.   
  
“Ah ah, Princess.” The words rolled off his tongue like molasses. He shifted her other leg to match the first. She wasn’t naked, but the position was, for lack of any word more fitting, vulnerable.

Shirtless and spread before him, it was like an open invitation for mischief, something he was well familiar with. Well, in some senses of the word, anyway. He sat back slightly, both hands rested gently on either of her knees, gentle, but firm enough to keep them in place at the light flinch his touch had sparked. Claws pricked through thin fabric, thin enough he could see the way the muscles in her legs tensed. A soft _shhh_ fell from his lips and the predatory glint in his eyes softened.

For a moment anyway. He knew if he let her get the upper hand again his resolve would crumble once more.  He certainly wasn’t trying to rush things, but there was a point where things could drag too long, as she'd said. And there were only so many hours in the night.

He leaned forward, his hands trailing upwards against her thighs, strong, solid, probably able to break a man's jaw even outside of their transformations. And yet _vulnerable_ for _him_. If he’d ever get his heartbeat under control… It wouldn’t happen. Not when he was around her. Marinette.

Hands flexed carefully against her as he leans down, something between the gentle purr and deep growl rattling through his chest, his eyes trained on hers. She shivered, visibly as he hovered an inch above the valley of her legs. His mouth parted, licking at his own lips, and took a deep breath.

He didn’t think she could have matched the color of her suit more perfectly in the instant before she swatted him on the head, lip pinched between her teeth to stifle the strangled noise she’d been about to make. He laughed, grinning like an idiot before her over-flustered retaliation could continue, and pressed the flat of his tongue against cloth, wide and firm and hot, dragging it slowly up against her hidden lips, making her breath hitch in the most delightful way.

He did it. He couldn’t believe he’d done it, but he done did it. Now or never, he pressed his lips against the damp area, more than confident it was a joint effort with Marinette having _provided_ most of the work. His mouth flexed against her, and his tongue pressed out once more, far more insistent as he lapped again at the fabric, kneading at her legs with his hands as one of hers tangled between his ears, gripping at his hair and keeping him firmly in place.

“Ch-chaton...” His name tumbled from her lips with a shaky breath, hitched as his tongue rolled over the sensitive bundle of nerves hidden from view. Pleading almost. Another pass of his tongue and Marinette rolled her hips up against his mouth. He growled.

How mad would she be if he ripped through the seam of her pants?

He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out, honestly. But it was an exciting thought. One he’d save, again, for later he decided, his hands shifting along her thighs, reaching up but never breaking contact as he cradled her hips from below.

“ _Up._ ”

She met the command immediately, her hips rising off the bed enough to press herself back against his lips, and he breathed deep once more, the intoxicating smell that was all Marinette washing over him tenfold. His fingers hooked into the hem of her pajamas, still baffled at himself, his control over himself, and slid them down. Legs came together and he growled softly to himself, having to back out of the way enough to let himself peel the soft fabric away to reveal softer skin.

Tossing the garment, he was pressing his face back between her thighs with a hunger before the pants could hit the floor, hands planting themselves against her waist, curled under her thighs. The moment's hesitation that almost existed died before it could even happen as her hands found his hair once more, tugging him against her and closing the fraction of distance he’d allowed to check for permission he already had.

His mind reeled at the humor of the cliche thought that popped into his brain. _She’s so wet._ But then, he could also imagine that it was probably the best description he could give at that exact moment, so he went with it, rolling his tongue against her folds, between them, gliding roughly against her and tracing every detail into his mind.

_So, this is what Marinette tastes like._

A deep purr rumbled through his chest and he felt her tense against him as it trembled through his mouth and into her, one of her hands leaving his hair to, he could only guess, press firmly against her own mouth. He cracked a lime eye open, chancing a glance as his purr only deepened in satisfaction as she pressed the back of her hand to her lips, head back, breath hitched. Curiosity and satisfaction certainly went hand in hand for this cat, and he’d come back as long as she’d let him. That was for sure.

The fingers in his hair tightened almost painfully as she kept tugging him close again every time he backed away even a fraction. Every explorative pass of his tongue against her entrance, every trace around the pearl at the top of her folds, every time his teeth would gently graze her skin would draw different noises from her. Low keens, shuddering mewls, deep, rich moans he already dreamed to hear let loose without the risk of being caught.

And his name.

He wanted to hear her shout his name.

_Chat Noir._

_Adrien._

It didn’t matter. They were both him. One and the same.

The thought of her parents just below, keeping that sweet symphony from him drew a growl from the hero known as Chat Noir, low, feral, tightening the grip at her waist as he pulled her closer to him.

_Mine._

She gasped at the tug, her legs pressing to either side of his head, and he redoubled his resolve. For the briefest moment his tongue dipped inside of her and he rolled his hips in time. A needy whine squeezed its way past the constant rumble as they met nothing but air.

_Soon._

Again he dipped inside her passage and the whimper that was returned to him nearly broke him.

_Definitely soon._

But not yet, he smirked as he rocked his hips once more. It was exciting. A not so silent promise. One his Lady seemed just as eager for as he was.

He pulled back a moment even as she tugged for him to return, panting and looking up at her once more.

The spots he’d left burned darker on her skin now in high contrast against the near full bodied flush. Marinette glistened with a fine layer of sweat, hair tousled, lips swollen and pouting with her arm drawn over her forehead as she looked at him. Her breath came ragged, heavy, hot.

If this was the last thing he saw before he died, he could die a happy man.

He sure had a strange fascination with his own demise lately. Probably because he already felt like he was in heaven.

She was watching him. Watching as he panted, nestled between her thighs. He knew his face was a mess with moisture, be it sweat from his own brow, as leather or whatever material his suit was made did very little breathing, or the slick mess coating his chin from his…

Meal.

Chat made a show of licking his lips and placed a slow kiss against the neat patch of dark curls just under his chin, keeping his eyes on hers. A quick smirk and his tongue flicked lower, brushing her clit once and watching her jerk with satisfaction.

A moment later he was back to work, his jaw aching slightly but he wasn't at all about to slow down. Who knew dining in could be such hard work? He’d have to make sure to practice much more often, he surmised. Practice makes perfect after all. He doubted Marinette would mind.

Hands gripped tight at her waist as he felt her jerk, his tongue laving back and forth against her pearl, a single goal in vivid focus. She whimpered, almost painfully between the beautiful noises she’d resumed purring to him and his eyes shot up. Concern tempered his vigor momentarily until he saw the edge of her thumb tight between her teeth and felt another insistent tug at his hair. Chuckling he pressed on, occasionally letting his tongue run a full path along the part of her lips as the little shakes and momentary bursts of tautness became more erratic with her breathing, her whines, her muffled pleas not to stop.

At that point, he was sure no force on earth could have made him stop.

Her back arched up off the bed and he clung to her, nails digging gently into her waist. The hand at his head flew from his hair, plastering itself over her mouth for the briefest moment to smother a staccato shout, devolved into babbling wordless noises, her tight clamping suddenly against his head and trapping him, and the persistent flick of his tongue, firmly in place. A beat later, both hands were tugging at his hair, her body writhing in his palms, quiet desperate gasps of 'chat’ and stuttered pleas to 'stop’, and he was frozen. The flat of his tongue still pressed firmly against her as everything stilled as suddenly as he had.

He was desperate not to panic. The only thing that saved him was that the tugs at his hair had ceased, again, as soon as he had. Her fingers were still tangled in his locks, most definitely, but they were loose. He could feel the twitch of them against his scalp, lax, resting.

She trembled in his hands. She was panting and flushed and so incredibly warm, slowly, oh so slowly sagging against the mattress once more.

Very carefully he retracted his tongue and felt her whole form jerk, a harsh whimper bubbling up between heavy pants as everything _clenched._

_He shivered._

He licked his lips, panting to catch his own breath a bit. Every puff of breath that fell from his mouth seemed to draw another tiny tremble from his princess. Chat dared press a gentle kiss against her _lips_ , sending another little shockwave through her, pulling back oh so slightly with a grin.

He wasn't worried anymore. He knew what he did.

And he was damn proud.

“H-holy shit.” Marinette finally managed, taking a deep shuddering breath. Seeming. To regain some amount of limb control she gave the cat boy an appreciative scratch to the scalp, which he eagerly leaned into.

“Yeah?” He chuckled, his throat a bit dry considering the explorative diving expedition he'd just been privy to. Another kiss was pressed against her lips, another small tremor was rewarded, and he was more than happy to give her just a bit longer to _settle down_. He kissed higher, burning a quick trail up to the curve of her hips with his mouth, and possibly leaving a slick trail in his wake. Whatever. “I'd say I have to agree.”

He traced said trail with his tongue a moment later. As an afterthought.

Oh god, how many ways could he make her shiver for him? He wanted to know. He _needed_ to know.

His lips locked onto the crest of her hip, dragging his teeth gently against yet another place he fully intended to mark. So maybe he _was_ a little mouthy. It wasn't his fault the design of his stupid suit didn't allow for many options to actually feel how silky his Lady felt or the minute ripples under her skin that were dampened by the thickness of his armor, or just how much warmer her she felt when she was flushed from head to toe.

Or exactly how she tasted when she was freshly spent.

Or how delicious she was mixed with the unique tang of her own juices.

He pulled back with a wet pop of his lips, licking up the small patch of extra saliva, because, you know, he could. It wasn't just another excuse to keep on sampling the delicious buffet in front of him. Really.

He glanced up and she was watching him again, an amused smile playing across her lips like she'd been waiting for him to finish his task. He sure was clocking some hickey practice tonight too.

“Ready for round two?” He smirked as the words rolled off his tongue. His well worked tongue. The smirk only widened as the amused smile on her face faltered and her eyes widened as realization sank in.

“Wait, a-again?” She gulped. Did she think he was going to let this paradise end so quickly? Chat chuckled, nuzzling gently, low on her stomach and drawing the claws of his right hand slowly against her hip, gently around the underside of of her thigh and pressing the leg still tucked against him well out of the way. The flat of his thumb rubbed tiny circles along the inner juncture where thigh met body, innocently drifting closer to her outer lips with every stroke.

He offered her a wink a moment before the totally innocent thumb caught the edge of one side, gently prying the wet fold away to part her. She squeaked.

He shifted back to his spot between her thighs, contemplative for a moment as he regarded _her_. “Well, I guess we could stop if you want…”  He delicately let his thumb press her labia together once more, ghosting the pad along the glistening line, still slick.

He licked his thumb, humming appreciatively.

“N-no… that’s… that's ok.” Her words were mostly air. Her hair was a mess. Her eyes were dark, but burning with an intense fire that ignited him inside. She loosed one hand from his head, making a motion of… Something… he wasn't sure what the noodly limb had intended but everything about the gesture screamed Marinette. “K-knock yourself out.”

His chuckle shifted into a full on laugh as she melted back against the bed with her own breathy chuckle, the free hand falling across her face and rubbing lazily.

Yep. Chat Noir was _damn_ proud of himself. Adrien was pretty dang proud too. Hell, all of him was just proud.

Licking his lips once more, and taking a moment to nibble at the stinging split to help reground himself to the task in progress, he nodded, feeling the fingers in his hair grip just a bit tighter once more. She was ready this time. “Your wish is my command, Purrincess.”

_Maybe_ she was ready.

Feather light, he drew his tongue along her slit, slowly, savoring her flavor and enjoying the way she absolutely quivered below him. The way his name dripped slowly from her lips like a quiet prayer, barely above a sigh.

Two fingers spread her lips, and he traced the edges of her with his tongue. Slowly, painstakingly mapping the contours with his lips and making checkpoints of the regions and what noises each pulled from her as he licked and kissed and gently nibbled his way across the land. He could hear the shift in her breathing as he explored, deep, even, controlled. No panting. No heaving breaths. Just easy, slow, and deep. Definitely not silent, however, and he traced back along a line that had drawn the most delicate moan from her lips a moment before, aptly ready to test his little theory.

It was music to his ears.

And he did, indeed, have a musical ear.

A slow stroke of the flat of his tongue, dancing just beyond the touch of the tight bundle of nerves, circling around it with just the tip only to meet it with a quick flick, everything he did brought out a new reaction from her and he just couldn’t get enough.

The backs of his claws trailed carefully against the edges of her folds and she sucked in a breath. He grinned against her, gently drawing them back and forth, edging the slightest bit closer to their goal with each soothing stroke.

It was a good thing she was holding still for him. He’d hate to have a slip-up now, as slippery as the situation was already. He was fully prepared to backpedal if needed, but as long as his Lady was on board, he felt adventurous.

A single digit traced over her entrance, barely touching. She tensed, and he could hear her swallow. The hand on his head tightened in his hair slightly, but only slightly. Her breath came with a bit more of a shake to it. The finger passed again, the very tip of his claw catching delicately into the opening, barely there.

She whimpered. Muffled behind her hand already, the sound was needy.

He pressed his lips around her pearl in a careful kiss and let the digit sink in, ever so slowly to the first knuckle and making her breath hitch. He mouthed her, working his lips around her lazily as he pressed in further.

It was a slow process. Excruciatingly slow. He was careful to keep everything he was doing as slow and predictable as he possibly could. It was like defusing a bomb. A bomb with a hair trigger.

A bomb she trusted him with.

A bomb that, eventually, he _did_ want to explode. Just not yet.

He hated his gloves. He hated them so much, in that exact instant. He wanted them gone. The entire suit. Everything. Just take it all away, just for tonight. Chat growled softly in frustration.

Marinette’s answering whine lifted his spirits a bit. Maybe they were on the same wavelength?

He was in as far as he could go. Had it not been such a precarious situation, he might have given a cheer for new territory explored, but alas, it was, and he technically had yet to explore this territory. Curling his finger slowly he gave an experimental rub within the deep heat. The sensations were dulled, but no less exciting as he traced her walls, humming softly against her.

She jerked, the slightest bit as he passed over one particular area and he stilled for a moment. A quick glance up and the nod he received had him exploring yet again, retracing his steps in the other direction, mindful of pointy bits, but dedicated to the cause. He felt her tense as he passed the area again and again, slowly, gently, obviously trying to keep herself still.   
  
He looked up at Marinette, his lips dragging away from her mound as he pressed more firmly inside of her. “There…?” He rasped, clearing his throat a moment after. His face was a mess again, but he didn’t mind in the slightest, eyes alight as he watched her nodding against the cat plush behind her. Her wrist was draped over her mouth, eyes screwed shut and brow pinched in concentration to keep still. He rubbed a small circle against the spot inside her and watched the muscles along the flat of her stomach shudder. He could feel a similar effect in her thighs, one hiked over his shoulder.

He turned, pressing a kiss against the inner curve of her thigh, smirking at the tiny jolt he’d caused.

“Would my Princess like more?” He tapped the back of his middle finger against where the first disappeared within her. A slightly more specific definition of his _more_.

He watched as she shivered again, a full body motion that started from her shoulders and raised goosebumps along her arms. She nodded again, enthusiastically.

He complied, eagerly. Making sure the tip of the new addition was tucked safely against the first, he pressed forward, gently working the tapering digits inside her. He knew he was holding his breath. He didn’t dare try to breathe while his full focus was directed at the point where his Lady’s slick cavern hugged tightly around his fingers. The night had already been filled with so many unbelievable things, and yet here he was, still stunned that _this_ was real. That _this_ was something he was actually able to experience. That _this_ was something that his god forsaken suit was keeping him from enjoying in its entirety. But _this_ was still definitely good. And _that noise_ that absolutely seeped from between Marinette’s lips as he pressed inside to reclaim _that spot_ was more precious to him in that moment than anything else.

It seemed that Marinette could, indeed, purr.

In a way that was all her own, of course.

He worked his fingers against the spot slowly, alternating pressure and little taps and slow circles. He very quickly vetoed the taps, unfortunately, as they seemed to make her the most responsive. That meant that, for now, they were also the most dangerous, so slow and gentle and steady would have to reign supreme. She barely bothered to give a whine about the loss, though. He could still work with a lessened arsenal, and having something fun and new for the future might actually prove to be useful.

Ah, the future. This was, of course, assuming there _was_ a future beyond tonight. And one that didn’t involve a magical black leather- _ish_ catsuit. Maybe an _actual_ leather cat suit though? Something that was indeed removable, and not magical in the slightest.

Another mental note, see if Marinette was open to working with leather. Mmm, yes.  That could definitely be an option. Definitely a nice option indeed.

He grinned against the smooth skin of her thigh under his lips, the thought of de-transforming in front of her only to be clad in a slightly more forgiving duplicate of his hero costume, something that would let him actually _feel_ the her pulse racing under his hands, the way each shiver raises little goosebumps against her skin, the soft vibrations each little noise she makes ripple through her entire being. Things he couldn’t feel through his unfairly thick armor.

Yes, he would definitely talk commission work with her later on.

“Cha-at...” His name left her lips like a delicate prayer that he answered with the flat of his tongue, rolling it slowly up from where his fingers disappeared within her, slow and rough between her lips. Her breath hitched and her back arched up off the bed and he could _feel_ her clench around his fingers. Biting back a whine and turning the needy noise into a much more acceptable groan, he rolled his hips down against her bed. The delicious pressure was only just barely enough to tease himself. Not nearly anything that could become satisfactory.   
  


Again, he reminded himself he could wait.  
  
  
Maybe.   
  
  
Yes. Yes he could.

Another tiny, insistent tug at his hair had him repeating the motion, but the whimper that answered told him that wasn’t what his princess wanted. He hummed against her, thoughtful, reveling in the subtle tremors through her form. Yet another tug and a refusal to use her words left him guessing at her need. Thinking, among other things, was hard for him. His lady had always been quite expressive, and often straightforward, in what she wanted him to do. Marinette could be more of a challenge sometimes in her shyness to broach certain subjects. While he wouldn’t call her shy right now by any means, Adrien knew that _doing_ for her was often a lot easier than _saying_ .   
  
Her entrance tightened around his fingers again, and she huffed.   
  
Oh.

“Quite the needy little lady, aren’t you...” He grinned against her, looking up to gauge her reaction and swallowing down a small wave of panic at the mental slip.  He tried so hard to keep that word out of his vocabulary when he was around her like _this_.

But she nodded. And she was looking at him. And nodding. She was looking at him, and nodding with those half-lidded eyes and her lips parted just so with that slight teasing smirk that made him feel like she would eat him alive if he didn’t give her what she wanted, and oh god how he wanted to give her anything that she wanted. He didn’t think he would ever truly get the upper hand with her. Not when she had him in the palm of her hand, wrapped around her little finger and hanging off every word to pass her lips.

For a second he debated switching hands, the briefest flash of Plagg’s imminent scolding flying through his mind at his ring getting… dirty… But after the years of dealing with the teasing and heckling, good natured though they may be, he couldn’t bring himself to care beyond that moment. And it wasn’t like he’d _ever_ find out.

A third finger worked it’s way inside against the others, oh so slowly. The cat was careful, as he had been, painfully aware of even the slightest shifts in the woman beneath him. He watched once again as her stomach muscles pulled tight, felt her legs tense against him as he eased farther into her once more, took note of the shaking rise and fall of her chest and the way her head tilted back to expose the marred and dotted patches of her neck and shoulders. He had to amend his earlier thoughts.

No garment he knew of would be able to hide _all_ of his handiwork.

It was slow going, but as Marinette finally began to relax once more, his digits able to slide in and out of her with a sense of ease through the tautness, he began to pick up the pace. Just slightly faster. Just slightly _deeper_.

A whimper unlike the others that fell from her lips stopped him, buried within her to the knuckle. He hummed a quiet question to her, placing a soothing kiss at the top of her lips and pulling another shiver from her petite form as the hand by her head bunched again and again against her pillow.

“Cold...” She breathed.

The ring, most likely.

” ‘S that bad?” Chat nuzzled against her, his lips against hers, his nose playing gently against her dark curls. He watched as she shook her head and he grinned. A quick glance at his own hand as his fingers slipped glistening from her and then slowly back in and he was mesmerized by the sight. Pink devoured slick black until the tiny band of metal kissed her opening and gained another soft whimper from the difference in temperature as it too disappeared for a moment.

It amused him… They never let anyone touch their miraculous. Usually not even each other.

_Wonder if she’s gonna hit me for this later._

It was hard not to snicker, even as he curled his fingers firmly inside of her, rubbing and pressing insistently against the deep bundle of nerves within her. She tensed around him once more, her muscled coiling under his hands, under his lips, against his shoulders and along his back where her legs rested. Her back arched slowly off the bed, betraying the tiniest spasms as he felt her struggle to keep herself in check. Round two wasn’t far off at all. Not after earlier, and not after right now. The intensity increased with each little jerk of her body. He’d need to pull out soon, but not quite yet.

A soft chuckle from him and his hot breath rolled against her. He let his tongue dip slowly, delicately coasting across her heated flesh. “A-ah, Cha-fuck!” Her fist clenched tight in his hair, tugging his face up. “O-one or the other. Fuck, one or th-the other.”

He nodded against her hand. The pull against his hair was a delicious reminder that he was at her command, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Well, _maybe_ he’d be ok with the situations reverse. Very ok with with that actually. But that would be a fantasy for another day.

“As you wi-”

A brilliant flash of green lit the room ablaze for a fraction of a moment and suddenly everything came screeching to a halt. He felt, more than saw, Marinette jerk at the sudden flash and he prayed with every fiber of his being it had been her throwing her arm over her face.

His hand was free.

And very, very naked.

“Chat.” His eyes snapped up and through his bangs it registered that Marinette was staring at him. Very slowly he tilted his head down. Maybe if all she saw was the top of his head- “Chat Noir, _what did you do.”_

“Oh, he _blew_ it, ’s what he did!” The tiny black figure zipped up and over his head, flitting about angrily. “Of all the _stupid_ stunts you've pulled this has _got_ to be the _dumbest_ thing I have ever seen.”  

He couldn't look. He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe, even as Marinette shifted into a somewhat sitting position, probably propped up on one elbow and very definitely not letting go of his hair, he didn't dare shift an inch. His ring was gone. He knew where it was, but it wasn't exactly somewhere he could just… go fishing for it. It certainly wasn't the first time he'd lost it, but he'd never quite lost it so spectacularly either.

Plagg turned to Marinette, fur bristling. Below him Adrien let out a longsuffering groan. “Name’s Plagg, nice to meet ya. Or it _would have been_ if I wasn't tied to this reckless _idiot_.” He kicked his chosens bowed head, a relatively harmless action all things considered. “Fix. This.”

The distant grumble about ‘never enough cheese for this stuff’ let him know the three of them were alone once more. Yep. Just Marinette, himself, and the strangling sense of of crippling fear and anxiety that was rapidly filling his chest while simultaneously stuffing his mouth full of the driest cotton the shreds of his panicking mind could conjure up. She was going to kill him. He could _feel_ her burning holes into the back of his neck. The way her hand far less deliciously tightened in his hair. There was no magical near-indestructible suit to save him any more. There was no barrier of casual charm to hide behind, or clever wordplay he could grasp at to diffuse the situation. There was no protective glamour in place to mask his voice, or blur the edges of his visage and keep his identity to himself if he turned just slightly the wrong way or spoke up a little too loudly.

“I’m waiting.” The sultry, delicate, _lofty_ tones his princess had spoken with just moments ago had all but crumbled into measured gravel.  Two words, so _thick_ on her tongue he could feel the force it took to press them out, not unlike the no nonsense tone she could harness nearing the end of a rough battle, but the cause of the effort was no mystery to him.

“U-uhm...“ His own voice came to him in a shudder. The cage of her legs hooked over his shoulders had him trapped. He was once more reminded, quite vividly, of the strength the girl looming over him held. Unmasked, the two of them were more than likely on equal footing. Hell, suited up, he knew from days of casual wrestling that she was, pound for pound, a tiny terror in her civilian form, but they’d never actually tangled on even ground without their powers. And he was not looking to make tonight the night to find out just how hard she could kick his butt. “Well...” He started slowly, grasping at as much of his usual Chat charm as he could, pushing to animate his words more than he typically would as Adrien in hopes that, maybe, she couldn’t pin him down. Figuratively, anyway. “You… Might have done something… That...” His head tucked down against his shoulders, his eyes scrunching closed as he braced against whatever reaction Marinette was about to rain down upon him. “That Hawkmoth couldn’t?”

He wasn’t sure what to label the strangled noise as that came from above him. If he had to dissect it, it was equal parts amused snort and startled choke, with a dash of incredulous huff, sprinkled with the ever classic ‘Marinette screech’, though the last was greatly reined in. Trembling fingers tightened in his hair but it felt more like a reaction than a conscious effort as they unballed against his scalp a moment later. She sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He still didn’t dare move.

After few more settling breaths, she continued. “Care to elaborate?”

“Not purrticularly-Ack!” A sharp tug at his hair did little to ease up the situation. It didn’t hurt so much as startle, but without the context clues her expression could have provided, he was uncertain if it had been playful in nature or not. “Ok, ok.” He didn’t want to talk any more than he already had. If he could just…

Get her to lie back…

Let him _fix_ the issue…

“I may have… left a deposit...” Another sharp tug.

“Hey, it was a slippery situation and it-” _Yank._

“I know you’ve always had sticky fingers bu- _Ow! Jeez, OK!”_ After all the manhandling of his hair throughout the course of the night he’d be surprised if he didn’t end up with a bald spot by morning. “It slipped off… My ring. When I was… _You know_ ,” He whined.

“Inside.” She deadpanned.

“Well, yes, for lack of a better word, _inside_.” He could only imagine how red his face was. He knew his ears were burning. He knew before his cheeks had been in constant flux bouncing between pastel pinks and rich crimsons all evening long thanks to all the prodding and teasing his Lady had been dishing out, but the mortified shame that surged at the blunder of epic proportions on his part had pushed the bar sky high.

“So. Your super special magical powered ring that lets you fight crime and turn into the terror that puns in the night is, and I quote, _inside_ me right now.” There was a strange waver to her words that could have bordered either side of the trench between carefully contained hysterical laughter or simmering, seething, _boiling_ rage.

He just nodded.

“I’m keeping it.” The sudden, blunt declaration knocked the wind out of him and he flinched, hard. “You’ve lost your hero privileges.”

“No! You can’t-” His head snapped up, green eyes pleading in the split second it took him to register the upturned quirk of her grin and slight lift to her cheeks falling away to slack recognition. It was in that moment, that Adrien Agrest knew. He fucked up.

In truth, had he been anyone else, he might have been able to get away with the attempted cover up by ducking down again right away, not giving her the chance to place his finely sculpted features alongside the dozens of billboards and advertisements that had littered Paris for years. Likewise, had Marinette been anyone else, she may not have caught the exact shade of green that lingered in her vision after she closed her eyes all throughout middle school and much of highschool, or the now sharp angles of a once charming boyish face she’d watched evolve slowly into and even more charming man. Had either of them been anyone different, that split second could have been shrugged off as a simple hiccup in their half-decade long relationship.

But they weren’t anybody else. They were Ladybug and Marinette. Chat Noir and-

“A-adrien!” Marinette scrambled backwards, or, rather, attempted to scramble backwards, limbs flying in all directions as none managed to find enough purchase to move too far, given their positions. The aforementioned Adrien managed to duck just in time to miss one of her feet connect squarely with the side of his head, but the back of it wasn’t as lucky.

“Hey! Hey, not the face!” He chuckles nervously, trying to fend off any further flying feet with one hand and hold her still, unsuccessfully, with the other still looped under her thigh. “Calm down Princess, please, it’s ok.”

She stilled at the nickname. Waiting a beat, he half expected her to start up again. But she wasn’t moving. Hell, he could barely hear her breathing.

“I… Marinette…” He began slowly, lifting his head to look up at her. Fallen back against the comforter, she was propped up on her elbows. Even with a fading look of panic drawn across her features, he couldn’t deny she was the most beautiful vision he’d ever had the honor to behold. Her chest rose and fell slowly with controlled breaths, jaw tight as she worked the muscles in a nervous habit he’d learned to pick out over the years. Her eyes were wide. There were a million things he wanted to say, reassuring nothings, little jokes and quips to lessen whatever panic had settled into his partner, anything to make the moment less…

Less…

Negative.

“I’m sorry.” Finally settling on something, he pressed on. “This… wasn’t how I wanted _this_ to go.”  He waved his hand in front of his face, gesturing to, well, himself. It at least earned him a soft snort, and he cracked a lopsided smile.

“I’d sure h-hope not.” Her words waver. The earlier confidence is gone en masse, but a shadow of it remained. It wasn’t powerful or commanding, but he couldn’t place them as timid either. He watched as her eyes darted over his face, watched as they traced the way his hair fell into his eyes ever so slightly, not quite as well kept as days when he actually had _something to do_ , along his brow as it creased slightly in the middle in sympathy as he remembered his own moment of enlightenment in learning two of his best friends were actually one and the same and how rattling the whole experience had been even with the proper time to adjust. He watched as her eyes rested on his for a moment, and in that moment he saw the shift between Marinette looking at Adrien to Ladybug looking at Chat Noir, but the gaze flickered out almost as soon as it had formed. She didn’t know he knew. His lady still didn’t know.   
  
And then her gaze dipped lower. The slow shift from surprise to recognition, from shock to acceptance, took a screeching turn that was almost audible in Adrien's mind as her entire face contorted into one of pure horror, eyes wide and mouth open with teeth bared ever so slightly.

It took only a moment for his brain to catch up with hers, and he grinned.

He grinned a wide, cheshire grin, watching her pallor warm to a strawberry pink and continue on to a much darker shade.

His face was a mess. At least from the nose down. And here he was, trying to placate her with his chin still glistening with slickness. Her mouth snapped shut and she looked away, flopping fully back down to the bed and drawing both of her arms over her face with a groan of pure, morbid frustration.

“Just.. J-just take it.” She whined. “G-go get your ring y-you… Stupid cat.”

He chuckled, wiping his chin with the back of his hand before nuzzling gently against her inner thigh and making her jump. She grunted, almost unfolding her arms before huffing and adamantly settling back down against the bed. A quick peek caught him sight of the blush creeping down her neck, well down her shoulders and flushing her skin almost all over. It gave him quite the nice view of his earlier handiwork as well.

Very carefully, for politeness sake and no longer out of fear of the danger of his digits, he slipped two fingers inside of her, slightly saddened as she swallowed the tiniest of moans, and slid the ring back onto its proper place, and making sure it stayed there as he withdrew once more.

“There we go. Got it, my Lady.” Well, if they were going to be ripping off the bandaid of his identity, might as well get both out of the way. After all, it was only going to take as long as her looking into more than a hand mirror to figure out his own knowledge, and well, he’d rather have at least _some_ say in his own demise.

The way Marinette hissed in a breath in front of him made him flinch and he looked away.

“What did you just call me.” It wasn’t _icy_ exactly, the way she breathed out the words. For a moment he thought perhaps he’d made a bad call. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to pile it all on at once. Was it really too much information? It seemed like she was taking his own identity pretty well, but then, he couldn’t be entirely too sure.

A second later he was assaulted by a large, white-stripped cat plush. He squawked as it slammed into his face, bouncing over his head and ended up settling somewhere across his lower back. He blinked, wide eyed and gaping at Marinette as she reached for another pillow at her end of the bed and swung it down towards him

“You absolute little _shit_ ! I can’t _believe_ you!” He squirmed backwards as much as he could, as she managed to finally detangle her legs and scuttle her way into a kneeling position, far better for beating her partner senseless with a pillow. He threw his arms up over his head at the assault, somehow ending up on his back and torn between pleading for help or helplessly laughing at the fluffy onslaught. To be fair, she was getting some pretty powerful swings behind his plush punishment. Alya had told legend of Marinette the Slumber Party Warrior more than a time or two. Adrien had just never been able to bare witness to it until that moment.

“I give, I give, please Bug, hey! Have mercy!” He laughed under the beating, catching a few leaked pearls of laughter of her own between swings. “I am but a wee- Ouch -a wee chaton, I yield!”

“Chaton is _right_ .” With a final swing she landed the pillow into his gut with an _oomph_ , abandoning her weapon and grabbing his wrists, her own small hands deceptively strong as she pulled them from his face and pressing them against the bed beside his head. She loomed over him, panting and half smiling, but her brow was pulled tight in consternation. His own giggles subsided slowly as he looked up at her and all of her upside down glory, grinning. This only earned him a frustrated whine and a noticeable tightening of her grip on his arms, lifting them up just a smidgen before pushing them back down in place for emphasis. “I can’t believe you.” She huffed indignant, but the upward curve of her lips just refused to match her exasperation.

“I do believe you said that already, Lovebug.”  His cheeky reply only earned him a repeat of her pinning move and a small growl.

“I _thought_ we agreed we couldn’t _do_ this.” She glared. This time her smile did fall, replaced by an all too familiar pout. Still not technically a frown. Still not technically a loss. He dared to grin a little wider.

“ _We_ did.” He nodded in agreement. “You told me to find someone else, and so I found the amazing, beautiful, and talented Marinette Dupain-Cheng. _Who_ , at the time, I did not know was also you, my Lady.” The matter of fact statement caught her off guard. For a moment, anyway.

“But you knew now.” She narrowed her eyes. All the things he said earlier came rushing back. None of them were untrue, but he could see where she was edging.

“Only a handful of weeks ago. By then I’d already fallen in love with you twice over, but I still wasn’t sure if I was going to push any farther.” He shrugged as best he could from his position, flashing a smug little smile up at her. “Well, I mean, until _you_ kissed _me_ , anyway.”

“I-” She stopped, eyes widening slightly in realization. _Canary, meet Cat_ . “You- That’s not. I mean-” Her face scrunched up suddenly, and Adrien’s smug smile broke into a gleeful grin. “W-well, you could have- _should_ have stopped it.”   
  
She sat back, releasing him and crossing her arms over her chest defiantly. And possibly with a hint of self consciousness. He rolled over once more, propping his head in his hands and looking up at her. Sure, she was flustered, but she wasn’t backpedaling like mad. She wasn’t tumbling all over herself and panicking. This kind of flustered, this was normal Marinette flustered. Not horribly tongue-tied and floundering flustered. Still dusted with blush, and literally nothing else, surrounded by rumpled sheets and displaced pillows, cast in the warm low light of her bedroom bouncing off pink and cream walls, he felt it was safe to say she was the exactly right amount of flustered for the situation.

He chuckled gently. “Would you really have let me, Princess?” A quick shift and he rolled on his side, reaching a hand down to tug off his shoes and set them on the edge of the bed frame next to the wall. “I mean you _did_ give me alcohol...” He rolled to his back, unbuttoning his jeans and finally grabbing her attention again as he began to shimmy them down, catching a smothered choking sound as she sputtered beside him. “So I would keep going, earlier, right?” His pants landed somewhere near his shoes as he pushed himself up into a sitting position

“Shut up.” Marinette groaned, cradling her face in her hands, and certainly not at _all_ peeking between her fingers as he made quick work of his shirt, leaving him only in a simple pair of black boxer briefs. “Shut up, shut up, shut _up_.”

His shirt met a similar fate as his pants, disappearing somewhere to the side of the bed. But he couldn’t care. He was beside himself. Sure, the mantra of _shut up_ continued softly under her breath even after he’d stopped talking, but she hadn’t pushed him away. She hadn’t told him to leave. And she’d made it evidently clear earlier in the night that he had been worrying far too much. Right now it felt like the biggest weight of his life had been lifted from his shoulders, and even though she was making quite a fuss, if he knew his partner as well as he thought, on both sides of the mask, her burden had been reduced a fair amount as well.

That, or he was just a really fast learner.

He licked his lips absentmindedly. _Mmm._ Alright, maybe less absentmindedly as he wanted himself to believe. Leaning forward on his hands, it was barely even a stretch for his lips to graze gently against her bare shoulder, placing a delicate kiss against her skin. She fell silent and he quickly fell into the task of peppering the not so casual blush with kiss after kiss, ebbing away the tension and slowly working his way towards her neck. Eventually the tender ministrations brought a sigh from her lips, and a couple of well placed nibbling bites against her neck won the blonde a small tentative laugh.

When her hands finally fell away from her face to cradle his, and began to pull him up towards her own, he spoke again. “You know, it’s not like I wasn’t planning to let the cat out of the bag tonight anyway...” He purred, lids lowered as a coy little smirk toyed at his lips. He gave her a chaste kiss as confusion played across her own. His head dipped against her hands, just slightly, his eyes following suit as he gave her front a _very_ obvious once over.

It was then that she finally looked down at the masterpiece of the artist _formerly_ known as Chat Noir.


End file.
